


The Forest

by frnkwy



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Demonic Possession, Demons, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Mythological AU, Possession, So much Lore, This WILL get finished also so.. don't worry about that, Violence!, War, demons and magic and all of that, faerie!AH, i really went all out on this one huh... years in the making.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 90,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnkwy/pseuds/frnkwy
Summary: Years ago, there was a war between an onslaught of demons and a mythical band of creatures called the saviors. The war was long and brutal, and humans became collateral damage in a battle between good and evil magic. Even hundreds of years after the war had been won and the demon plague was wiped away, the rapidly expanding human race had driven every creature of magic out and into the shadows.Michael Jones had been taught to hate magic his whole life. He was told that there were faeries and witches and demons in the woods that would kill him or steal his soul, or worse. After a friend disappears and Michael is lead into the forest, he began to realize that there was more than one side to every story.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Michael Jones, Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey, Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood
Comments: 18
Kudos: 71





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> SO. I have posted this before, several years ago. I started writing this in 2015, and it has sat unfinished on my computer for some time. I find myself thinking about it often, so I changed some things (A lot), and decided to continue writing it because if I don't it won't ever leave my head. I was inactive in the AH community for a while but for the past year or so I have had a resurgence of love for these idiots. And here we are. Everything up until chapter 6 was written before 2017 (with some editing), so bear with me. I will shut up now, thank u.

The air was warm and thick, like Michael was walking around in someone’s mouth. He ignored the feeling of his shirt sticking to his back and the dirt and rocks in his shoes. The sun slid down the sky like an egg yolk and set on top of the trees that blocked the horizon completely. He looked around at the houses along the road he was walking, and saw candles flickering in nearly every window. Some of the curtains remained drawn and doors blocked, but there hadn’t been an attack in quite a while so most people in the village were still out and about.

A woman with curly blonde hair under a big blue hat passed him, clutching a wicker basket to her chest. He smiled and she smiled back. Her brown shoes kicked up a cloud of dust with every step and her shawl blew behind her as she disappeared around a corner. Michael remembered seeing her at the market a day or so before. She bought a whole basket of tomatoes and another of apples, but nobody said anything to her. Her blue eyes glinted in the dim light of the passing sunset, but left Michael’s mind immediately. 

The narrow road opened up and he was in the small village square, alight with candles on posts. Men wearing too-big shirts and shoes passed down to them by their fathers or grandfathers drank whiskey by the door of the tavern, calling to the long-skirted women who passed by them. Next to the tavern was a horse barn, where Michael could hear the large animals huff and wooden doors being knocked upon. Michael’s shoes _clip clopped_ on the cobblestone as he walked across to the statue in the center of the clearing. He remembered when they built it four years prior. A parade in honor of the prince’s coronation was going to come through the main city, Rochdale, and they needed even rural villages to look nice. Jordan Cwierz, a noble, ordered that a statue of the new king be erected in the middle of the irrelevant square. The cracks in the stone of the statue were filled with moss and cobwebs, and his face looked worn and weathered. It was a spitting image. 

Michael approached the building straight across from the statue, next to _Ruth’s Baked Goods._ A dark wooden sign hung proudly above the door, reading _Heyman’s Grocery_ in fancy, hand-painted red lettering. Pots of purple and yellow pansies lined the exterior, and two candle holders hung on either side of the door. The light flickered and made the flowers look like monsters in their own shadows. The red door was just recently painted from its previous rusty orange, so the color still looked waxy and glossy. 

He opened the door and a bell rang.

Jeremy stood behind the counter, tense and pale. Guards Marquis and Demarais were talking to him quietly, but stopped when Michael walked in. Marquis cracked his neck and offered a smile. They weren’t the most intimidating guards, so whatever they were talking about must have had an effect on Jeremy.

“You okay, Jeremy?” Michael asked, but he didn’t move. Beads of sweat gathered on his hairline and his right hand grasped a broomstick so hard his knuckles were white.

“Michael, do you happen to know anything of the whereabouts of Joel Heyman?” Marquis asked, almost wincing at the words. Michael’s heart beat painfully in his chest.

“No, why? What happened?” Michael asked, looking from the solemn guards to a frightened Jeremy. Demarais shifted awkwardly. “ _What happened_?”

“Well,” Demarais began, wringing his hands. He was a small and nervous-looking man, not someone Michael would have expected to be a guard. “We suspect Joel — uh, Mr. Heyman, has been killing people for a long time, we haven’t been sure until now. We found five bodies right before the forest near his house.” He said quickly. 

“How do you know it was him? They— they were just near his house, it could have been anyone.” Michael rushed, looking at his friend for backup. Jeremy just stared at the opposite wall, white as a sheet.

“We have a witness — a young lady, she saw Joel dragging their bodies to the clearing where we found them.”

“She’s lying, then. Joel would never do that he— he’s a good man.”

“There was a trail of bloody footprints that lead back to his house, and more blood on his doorknob.”

Michael felt a wave of nausea and leaned back against the door. He would’ve thought it was a joke if Jeremy didn’t look like he just pulled out his own teeth, he didn’t scare easily. Joel Heyman, the man who used to sneak him apples free of charge when he couldn’t afford any, the man who took Jeremy under his wing when he showed up out of the blue years before. Maybe they were talking about a different Joel Heyman, because there was no way _their_ Joel would do that. He was always so kind, everyone in the town knew him.

“I know it’s out of nowhere. He was mine and everyone here’s friend. But do you have any idea where he could have gone? His house is completely empty, like no one ever lived there.” Marquis said gently, and Michael shivered. He hated it. He hated thinking of Joel killing anyone, and that look Marquis was giving him.

Michael shook his head, not trusting his own voice. Marquis nodded, and motioned Demarais to follow him out. “If either of you have anything for us, you know where to go.” Marquis said, and then they were gone. The bell chimed as the door closed, it sounded too happy.

A thick silence rested over them like a blanket. Jeremy stared at the back wall, his face twisted like he was in pain. He had worked at Joel’s store since he moved to Cirrane about four years ago, and even lived with the man when he first came to town.

“Jeremy?” Michael said, quietly, and he jumped. His eyes were wide and dark and Michael wanted to leave all of the sudden.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, Michael. I — I’m closing up.” He stuttered, wringing his hands.

“Well, be careful. And, sorry. Y’know.” Michael said awkwardly, and Jeremy nodded. He left, and grief and confusion mixed into an ugly feeling that settled in his gut.

  
  


People began to head down their respective roads back to their respective homes, not knowing what happened; not knowing anything, really. The air seemed heavier and sweat dripped down Michael’s face after only a couple minutes. His dirty, worn shoes kicked up dry red dirt with every step and wilted plants drooped into the middle of the path like they were reaching out to him. Trees and foliage and long, grotesque branches stuck out from the dark of the forest and Michael remembered there was some substance to the stories parents and grandparents and everyone else told. There was dark magic beyond those trees. 

Goosebumps appeared on his arms when the trees groaned and he wished he never came out so late at night. 

He was a good while away from home when he heard a _thump thump thump_ on the forest floor, too far out for him to be able to see in the dark. 

Michael looked around and saw no one. The moon was making its presence known high in the sky, and a breeze travelled through the forest and the branches clattered together. The footsteps came closer, impossibly close, and Michael saw a flash of white. He stumbled back, heart racing. He looked around again and heard a cackle coming from right behind the wall of trees. It sounded like Joel, impossibly.

He thought of Jeremy’s face when he walked into the grocery, and all the people Joel killed. Michael didn’t even ask who the latest were. His chest ached and a twinge of anger forced him to look back at the dark, _dark_ woods. He heard the _thump thump thump_ again, close, and his legs were stiff. There were rusty signs nailed to the trees, reading **DANGER** and **KEEP OUT** that he passed almost every day on his way home. They stared at him, silently pleading; silently begging. That twinge of red-hot anger expanded and grew until he couldn’t think of anything else. He knew he was being irrational and stupid, but he switched to autopilot. He ran after Joel.

It seemed darker in the forest, with trees the size of mountains and the color of oil, shifting uncomfortably, surrounding him. The ground was covered in leaves bigger than his face that slid under his feet every time he took a step. His lungs burned and his legs strained as he ran, faster and faster; reaching and reaching for the dark shape mere feet in front of him. The footsteps and his own heart were all he could hear and he could almost _touch_ the figure in front of him. They were shrouded in darkness, Michael could only make out the clean whiteness of their shirt. He released one last spurt of energy but his legs couldn’t catch up and he fell, hard, onto the damp forest floor.

Michael sat there, dazed and drained, and tried to catch his breath. His blood froze when he realized where he was. He cursed himself for being so _stupid_ and whipped his head around, looking for anything that could be lurking around. He couldn’t move and he could feel something looking at him but he couldn’t see much either.

He stood up, finally, and began slowly in the direction he assumed he came from. When his eyes adjusted, he noticed the bark on the trees was dark red, like blood. He wanted to get away from the strange trees and the creeping dread that took over his body and made his hands shake. 

Hours and hours must have passed and the trees were still the same and Michael kept hearing giggling behind the bushes, but when he checked there was nothing. He was more agitated than scared at that point, because whoever — _what_ ever it was started throwing pinecones. One hit him in the head and the laughing grew louder. He took a step back, but before he could turn around something shoved him hard. He snagged his arm on a thorn bush on the way down and the breath was knocked out of him briefly when he hit the ground.

He looked around wildly and saw a glint of metal under a pile of leaves. He would have stepped right on an old bear trap if he took another step.

He got up and stood completely still, blood running off his fingers and onto the leaves below.

“Hello?” He called warily, and ignored the giggling. His heart was pounding so hard, he could feel his pulse in his fingertips. He paused, then yelled again. _“Hello?”_

Silence. Michael huffed, realizing he was only angry because he was scared. The saying “The only thing to fear is fear itself.” had never been more truthful. Michael was scared of being scared. His hands shook and he wished he didn’t fly off the handle so quickly, thinking the figure was Joel. It could have been any number of things that now had easy access to his body, like a vampire or a faerie.

He wiped some of the blood off of his arm, wincing when he took some thorns lodged in his skin with it. Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“What the fuck?” Michael shouted, jumping back, wary of the bear trap behind him.

“ _What the fuck_ is right.” A voice said, cracking on the last syllable. A man with a ridiculous mustache and dark symbols creeping up his arms appeared in front of Michael, and he yelped. His blue eyes shone through the dark. The man grabbed his arm.

“It’s not safe here, don’t you know that? _What are you thinking?_ ” The man scolded, and began to drag Michael away. The giggling stopped.

“What? Where did you even come from?” Michael shouted.

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

He ripped his arm back, glaring at the man as menacingly as he could. 

“And who the fuck are you? What are _you_ doing out here?” Michael hissed, but it didn’t faze the other man. He looked just as infuriatingly tired as before, and his lidded eyes made him look perpetually disinterested. The small amount of light coming from between the thick canopy above them cast a dark shadow on his extreme features, making him look dark and ghastly.

“I’m Geoff, _I’m_ out here looking for idiots like _you_ so you don’t get yourself killed.” He said, voice even. Michael simultaneously wanted to punch him and run away from him. “Anyway, we should get going before the fucking trolls start picking on us.” He said the last part louder, and began yelling at the bushes. “Yeah, that’s right. I hear you fuckers giggling away. I’m not gonna fall for your damn tricks or pranks or whatever the fuck you call them.”

“Go with _you_ ?” Michael sputtered, ignoring the trolls for now. “Why would I follow a complete stranger I just met in the woods? _Are you insane?_ ”

“Because, I don’t know, you want to live?” Geoff retaliated.

“And what if I don’t go with you? What will they do?” Michael tried to sound challenging, motioning towards the silent bushes.

“The trolls? _They_ won't do shit. The spriggans will, though.”

“ _Spriggans_?” Michael ran after Geoff, who started walking away. 

“Why are there spriggans here?” Michael asked, fearful. He thought spriggans only frequented the forests in the next kingdom over, Dursley.

Geoff shrugged. “There’s all sorts of shit in this forest.”

Michael was quiet after that, and let Geoff lead him through the forest he failed to navigate for hours, but he did it in minutes. He felt like he had to follow him, even though he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep and forget about everything that happened. _Maybe this is a dream. Maybe I will wake up and everything will go back to normal._

A dark shape began to come into view, partially hidden by abnormally thick-trunked trees. Their leaves were wider, fuller, and a sort of purplish-red color. The shape turned out to be a rickety-looking house, nestled between two of the monstrous trees. He didn’t think anyone lived that deep in the forest, it was too dangerous. The only light came from the leftmost window on the second story, far from the ground.

As they got closer, a feeling of unease built in his chest until he swore it would crack his ribs. They approached the old oak door and he took note of the copious amount of plants crowding the front porch. Pots hung from the gutter from frayed, knotted ropes, they were perched on the banister, and some sat on the windowsills. The plants themselves were unique in the sense that they all seemed to be different, and also because he had never seen the likes of most of them. One had strange, bulbous fruits that reflected blue and orange at the same time, and seemed to vibrate. He looked away.

The brass knocker on the door winked at him in the golden light from the window. His head was about to burst with anticipation and fear and _dread_ , but he watched as the door opened in front of him to reveal a dark sitting room. Geoff lit a candle by the stairway and he was surprised that spiders and cockroaches and the works didn’t pour from every corner and crevice. It looked normal. Several wooden rocking chairs adorned with an assortment of old-looking blankets crowded around a small table in the center of the room, and bookcases lined the walls. They were all filled, and some stacks of books and journals that didn’t fit were piled on either side of the door leading to the rest of the house. If that room was an example of the others, this guy must have lived there a long time to acquire that much junk. 

“So what were you doing in the middle of the forest, kid?” Geoff said in a more loud and confident manner, now that they weren’t outside. Michael was about to reply before he heard commotion coming down the stairs on the opposite side of the wall.

“No! Gavin, don’t! It’ll be the same as last time, please.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Actually, yes I do. It’s the same potion and — dammit, Gavin! Don’t spill it everywhere!”

“Don’t be so bloody negative all the time!”

“I’ll poison you in your sleep.”

“No you won’t.”

“You’re right. I could do _so_ much worse than poison.”

_“Ryan!”_

Two men rounded the corner and stopped when they saw Michael standing in the front doorway. Geoff had already taken a seat in one of the chairs. 

“Who is this?” The man holding the vial asked, motioning to Michael.

“I found him wandering around in the woods, nearly lost his foot in a fuckin’ bear trap.” Geoff chuckled.

“Why’d you bring him _here_ , though?” The same man asked, more annoyed and fearful than venomous. His accent was one that Michael had never heard before.

“Don’t be a dick, Gavin. He’s not going to do shit.” Geoff sighed, waving his hand.

“You don’t know that!” He retorted, eyeing Michael warily.

“I’m right here, asshole.” Michael grumbled. Gavin peered at him, eyes narrowed. “Anyway, I don’t even know where the fuck I am, who you are, or what to do. So If you answer these three _simple_ questions, I’ll fucking leave.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit.” Gavin spat, fist clenched around the glass bottle.

“Hey. Down, boy.” Geoff said, standing up. Gavin didn’t budge.

“Who are you?” Gavin demanded.

“Michael.” He said, shortly.

“Well, _Michael_ , you just have to keep walking. The woods will guide you back.”

“Fine! Goddamn.” Michael snarled, nearly spitting in Gavin’s face at that point. He turned around to head back out the door, but before he could, it slammed open and Jeremy was panting in the doorway, still wearing his apron from work.

“Geoff, Geoff. Who else could it be? It can’t be Joel, It can’t be. I swear it’s not—” He stopped when he saw Michael, slack-jawed between a pissed Gavin and a suddenly nervous Geoff. “Oh. Michael.” He said simply, not moving.

“What the fuck?” Michael shouted, sick of these _strangers_ confusing him and riling him up. He didn’t know why he stayed as long as he did, spriggans be damned. “Jeremy — where am I, who are these people, and _what the fuck are you doing here?”_

Jeremy looked sweaty and guilty, but shrugged, still out of breath. Michael made a strangled noise of frustration, wanting to put his fist through the oddly hand-painted wall. 

“Uh, well, calm down first.” A cough. “Please? I don’t know, shut up Geoff.” It was the guy standing next to Gavin, and he had his hands out awkwardly as if to soothe him from a distance. Geoff was laughing quietly. His look of nervousness had disappeared.

“Calm down? I don’t even know what’s happening right now!” Michael yelled, feeling hysterical. Every emotion filled his body in different waves and he was nauseous and nothing was making sense. Geoff pressed his hand to the side of his head, still laughing.

“Uh. Small world?” Jeremy tried, and Michael calmed down enough to want to strangle him right then and there. 

“Explain.” Michael hissed, and Jeremy glanced at the party behind him.

“Can I come in first?” Jeremy asked, and Michael stepped aside just enough so he could come in and Jeremy closed the door between the crowded room and the warm outside world.

Jeremy sat down in a burnt-looking chair and kept glancing between Geoff and Michael. 

_“Explain.”_ Michael said again, more forcefully, and Jeremy put his hands up.

“Hey, I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jeremy defended himself, “I don’t know why you’re even here, actually. Geoff, why is he here?” 

_“That’s what I’ve been asking!”_ Gavin shouted, and Geoff glared at him.

“He’s _here_ because he looked like he was in trouble, and I didn’t particularly want to leave him and let him be killed by spriggans or whatever the fuck else is out there. I’m glad I did, because you two obviously know each other. Michael — Jeremy lives here.” Geoff said calmly, and it was quiet for a moment.

“You...live here.” Michael said slowly, and Jeremy nodded. “How? I thought you lived in Cirrane, I've been to your goddamn house. You've lived there for years.”

Gavin tensed, Geoff smirked, and Jeremy remained stoic. The other guy still just looked cautiously at Gavin. 

“Well,” Jeremy coughed. “Uh.” 

“Spit it out, Jeremy.” Michael urged, taking a step from the wall towards him, his nerves beginning to skyrocket.

“Because I want to.” Jeremy said with that blank stare he perfected. It was infuriating.

“Whatever Jeremy. Really, why are you here?” Michael sighed, leaning against the wall again. Jeremy had never been this reserved around him, or so secretive. He was usually boisterous and funny, but now he looked closed-off and worried.

Jeremy puffed his cheeks and sighed loudly. “We’re—” Gavin cut him off.

“Really? Guys, it doesn’t matter. Just leave, Michael.” He said uneasily. 

“Hey, shut the fuck up.” Michael snapped. “What’s going on?” He looked between a bemused Geoff and Jeremy, who sat awkwardly in the chair. “Who are these guys?”

“God — we’re faeries. Okay? Jesus.” The other man said finally, and Gavin looked at him, horrified.

 _“Ryan.”_ He hissed quietly, and the guy, Ryan, shot him a half-hearted glare.

“What? Who are we fooling, Gav? He looked like he was going to break something if we kept being so fucking cryptic.” He nudged Gavin with his shoulder, but he started wringing his hands. 

“Michael?” Jeremy said, voice low, as if that would do anything.

“I…” Terror creeped into Michael's brain. He looked at his best friend, not seeing anything but what he was taught to fear and hate his entire life. The creatures mankind had been fighting and running away from. He looked around and saw a room full of _monsters_. They looked at him with human eyes and Michael wished he never left his house. A disgusting mixture of hurt, panic, and rage blossomed in his chest and he backed up, finally, towards the door. He didn’t know why he hadn’t left before. Way, way before.

“Michael-” Jeremy looked so sad, but he didn’t care. 

“Fuck you.” Michael spat. He reached behind him, fumbling with the doorknob, when Geoff coughed.

“Uh, Michael, you might not want to do that.” 

“And why the fuck not? I shouldn’t even be here, one of you will — will—” He stopped, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was sweating and so _mad_ at himself for being such a coward. But holy shit, he was outnumbered and he didn’t want to become one of those stories old people told children about faeries that killed anyone who entered the forest. He _was_ one of those idiots who went into the forest that he made fun of as a kid.

“Well, number one, there’s a shit-ton of trolls out there. I don’t know how you got past them in the first place, but they’ll fuck you up if they catch you.” Geoff said, sternly, and kept talking before Michael could reply. “Second of all, I don’t want you going back to your little town and telling everyone there’s a house full of scary faeries in the middle of the forest.”

Jeremy scoffed. “Scary faeries.” 

“Shut up, I’m just saying—” 

“Oh, we’re scary faeries. Look at us, so frightening. I’m scared of myself.” 

“Jeremy, I’m trying to—” 

“I don’t know, Geoff, I think you’re scaring him. We might want to tone it down.”

_“Jeremy.”_

Michael couldn’t believe how quickly the atmosphere changed. He knew Jeremy was just trying to lighten the mood, to get him to stay, and he hated him for it. Jeremy looked at him pleadingly, but Michael couldn’t sympathize. He couldn’t feel anything but bitter betrayal and unease.

Jeremy’s shoulders sagged and he sighed. “Michael, I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“Find out what? Oh, that you’re a fucking faerie living in a goddamn commune in the middle of the woods? Oh my god, I have no idea who you are.”

Jeremy’s face cracked in half and Michael felt a rush of guilt that conflicted with his resentment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

“Look, Michael,” Ryan began, stepping forward only the slightest bit, but Michael flinched against his own will. He hated looking like a coward but, fuck, he didn’t want to _die_ . Ryan sighed and raised his hands in a sign of surrender. “We’re not going to hurt you. I know that’s not a lot coming from, well — _us_ , but... to be honest, if we wanted to kill you, we would’ve done it already.” 

Michael couldn’t tell if he felt comforted or threatened by that statement. Geoff put his face in his hands. “Bad word choice, Ryan.” 

Ryan was quiet, then looked mildly horrified. “No! I mean — I just meant—”

“Uh.” Michael couldn’t force himself to say anything else, but he did relax slightly. He was still wary, of course, being surrounded by fucking _faeries_ ; but he no longer felt suffocated by dread. At least they wouldn’t kill him _now_. And as much as his trust in Jeremy had been broken, he felt slightly safer with him there.

The door clicked and opened behind him, and Geoff waved his hand at him. “Suit yourself, just know there are a few escaped demons out tonight. You don’t wanna know what they’ll do to you.”

Gavin’s head snapped towards Geoff. _“What?”_ He whispered. Geoff nodded.

“Fucking — demons? Oh my god, where the hell are we? Why did you bring me _here_?” Michael shouted.

“I saved you, you piece of shit!” Geoff yelled, voice cracking.

“God, alright! We’ve established this!” Ryan interrupted, and Geoff sighed loudly.

Michael edged to the right and sat down in one of the chairs, swearing he could hear his legs creak and groan like old trees. He felt slightly better because he could see everyone in the room and their movements. They seemed to relax, and Ryan was almost out of the room when the front door opened again. A big man with a ginger beard and a green uniform trudged in, dropping his muddy shoes onto a mat near the door. He held a small burlap sack in one hand and the top half of a snake in the other.

He looked around the room after Geoff greeted him, calling him Jack, when his eyes rested on Michael, sitting startled in the chair. 

“Who is this?” Jack asked, voice booming but even.

“How many of you are there?” Michael shouted, and Ryan laughed a deep, easy laugh.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked, and handed the items to Ryan.

“I’ll tell you later.”


	2. Two

_ Michael was running. His lungs were cold and heavy like they were full of ice and every time he blinked it took longer for his eyelids to open again. He knew there was something behind him. He didn’t need to look, he knew. He could feel a sort of static behind him and he could hear it breathing hard, was that breathing? _

_ He felt like he was falling, suddenly, and looked down to see… Nothing. Nothing below him, around him or above him. He reached his hand out and touched Nothing at all. The same static buzzed just out of his peripheral vision but he was more concerned about the pedestal that materialized just in front of him. It was white, a pearly, iridescent white that made the darkness around him look thicker. On that pedestal sat a sword. It looked about the length of his arm with a simple, straight blade that winked at him in the radiating light and an engraved hilt. He couldn’t read what it said, even when he got close enough to touch it. He didn’t touch it, though, something in his mind told him not to. He couldn’t. _

_ He hovered his hand over it and felt a white-hot heat nearly burn him, and when he flinched back, the static leaned right over his shoulder and he turned his head around and saw a man. He was just that, a man. Michael couldn’t persuade his eyes to see anything other than a template. The man waved his hand slowly, almost teasingly. Michael felt the static. That was the only way to describe it — static. He was loud and quiet, still and mobile. His face was there. So was his arm, now resting at his side. Michael watched him open his mouth, was that a mouth? Michael waited, for hours it seemed, and then— _

A crash. Michael sat up, heart beating painfully. He was covered in sweat and wearing a shirt Ryan had awkwardly offered him the night before. Another loud noise, like muffled shouting and heavy footsteps approaching the door startled him into motion. He pushed the thin blankets off his legs and stood up just as the door slammed open. Geoff stood there, illuminated by the moonlight coming from the open window above the bed. His cold blue eyes were wide, and blood stained his hands and clothes. 

“Get out here, we have to leave.” He panted, lurching forward and grabbing Michael’s arm. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Michael asked, rubbing his eyes as he let himself dragged down an empty hallway. He smelled the heavy, metallic scent of blood throughout the whole house and nearly gagged. “Why is there blood everywhere?”

“Va—” Geoff was cut off by a parchment-skinned creature jumping from around the corner to the sitting room, with bright yellow eyes that reminded Michael of candlelight. It's black hair was thin and slicked back and dried blood lined it's disgusting gaping hole of a mouth. Michael swore when it lunged forward and immediately latched onto his other arm. Its mouth was inches away from his skin, and it started to writhe around and make noises like a fish out of water when Geoff ripped him away. 

Michael held his arm and watched, shocked, as Geoff decapitated it with a fucking kitchen knife. Red red  _ red _ blood spurted out of its neck like a fountain, then slowed to a trickle, creating a pool of crimson around it. 

“Vampires.” Geoff said, eyeing Michael warily. “You’re fine. Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

Michael couldn’t feel his arms as he was pulled outside, but he did feel the warm blood against his skin, soaking his clothes. He wanted to be sick. 

As soon as the warm early morning air hit him, he ran. Jack lead them through the forest that looked so much different from the last time Michael saw it only the day before. The leaves were a dark orange, and the smooth bark looked almost pink. He didn’t have time to wonder why they changed before someone yelled a panicked “Shit!”.

He whipped his head around and saw Gavin wrestling one of the vampires, its skin was black and rotting like it had been underground for months. Its mouth was a dripping hole in its face and it screamed a loud, horrible scream that sounded like metal tearing. Geoff shot past Michael in a blur, wielding a knife he swung wildly. 

“Geoff!” Michael shouted, watching in horror as the creature raised a heavy arm over its head. He wanted to move, to help; but his legs wouldn’t listen and Jeremy held him back. His touch still sent a spike of anger through his body, but he ignored it for now. 

Geoff lunged forward, knocking Gavin off his feet and burying the blade into the creature’s face. The noise went up a few octaves and Michael’s ears hurt. It took a swipe at Gavin first, catching him in the cheek. Blood welled up and ran down his neck like a river, but he ignored it in favor of yanking the knife out of its face with a force that brought it closer and made it fall to its knees. Crimson blood gushed like a waterfall from under its eye and soaked Geoff’s shoes. Gavin grabbed its black, matted hair and slit its throat until he saw bone. Its head fell to one side and the body went slack on Geoff’s foot.

It was quiet other than their heavy breathing and Michael felt like he remained perpetually shocked in the time he had been with these faeries. Bile rose in his throat but he didn’t have time to dwell on it before Jeremy tugged on his arm and they were off again. He looked behind him and saw Gavin still running, holding his face with his hand. Geoff remained behind him, uncharacteristically grim-faced.

They ran for a while before the trees thinned and disappeared completely, and Jack slowed to a stop at the edge of the clearing. Michael’s lungs ached and Gavin looked like he just ran for hours. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ryan panted, placing a hand on Gavin’s shoulder, “Remember when we had to run from those trolls when you first got here?” 

Gavin coughed and put his hands on his knees.

The ground was leveled, and dry red dirt like the kind from home covered Michael’s shoes. In front of them was an unguarded entrance; a stone archway that had steel bars waiting to drop at the pull of a lever. Inside, he could see a town bigger than he had ever seen, all empty alleys and tall red brick buildings with green roofs. The houses started out small and got bigger as they disappeared beyond his line of sight, but he could see the edges of houses and farms going up hills that were enclosed by tall brick and stone walls. He heard the sounds of civilization and yearned to be surrounded by that, but decided not to run away in case the stories about angry faeries were true. 

Gavin sat down against a tree and Geoff followed, crouching in front of him to inspect his wounds. Jack leant up against the same tree and Ryan was busy looking through his pockets for something. 

“Why don’t we just go to the town? I’m sure they’ll know what to do, or have something to fix Gavin up with.” Michael said to no one in particular.

“Oh yeah, a group of faeries covered in blood asking if they can get help with a bunch of vampires invading their house in the middle of the woods. That’ll work out just  _ fine _ .” Gavin mumbled, and Michael bristled. He opened his mouth to retort but Jack shook his head and he clamped his big mouth shut.

“There’s a stream somewhere close I think, we’ll clean ourselves up and hopefully we’ll blend in enough when people start coming out.” Jack said, voice even and calming. Gavin huffed, letting Geoff poke and prod at his face. 

“You two go first, see how far away it is. Fill this up for Gav’s face.” Ryan handed Jack a silver flask with a big dent in the middle. 

Michael reluctantly followed Jack away from the light and into the dark forest that always seemed to be moving; swaying and rustling and reforming like magic.  _ It probably is magic. _

“Michael, come here.” Jack called, and he ran ahead to catch up with him. He swerved around trees like he knew exactly where to go, strides long and confident. Michael would never find out how they navigated through that forest with such ease.

“Yeah?” Michael responded readily, feeling like a knight speaking to his king. Jack had a sort of reserved dignity to him, and poise a man of his size rarely had. Michael had only known him for a short time but felt like he owed him his respect, even if he was terrified.

“Geoff trusts you won’t tell anyone about us, so once we get everything sorted I’ll take you back to your home.” He smiled crookedly. “But if anything happens, you know where to find us.”

Michael was quiet for a moment. He felt bad for thinking they were monsters, he just couldn’t get the images he saw while growing up out of his head; the drawings of faerie clans killing children, demons seducing the innocent, and ghouls attacking those who wandered into the forest. But none of these men  _ (not men) _ expressed any desire to kill him. Even Gavin, who had been at his throat the entire time he had been there, had no bite to his bark.

He just nodded, hoping Jack saw. He heard the bubbling and murmuring of a creek nearby, and ducked under a low branch to see a river surrounded by foliage and fruiting trees. It looked like something out of a painting, with clear water and perfectly red apples hanging low off their branches. Young grass grew near the water and tiny fish dashed down the stream, shining silver and blue. 

Jack stepped forward, carefully, looking behind rocks and into the deeper parts of the water. He leant down and stuck a hand into the water, slowly, then retracted it after a few seconds. Michael watched, waiting for something he didn’t know was coming. 

He looked back at Michael and nodded, smiling. “It’s fine, just making sure nothing will come out and fuck us up. There might be nymphs around and they get violent when they’re scared.” 

They proceeded to wash off the now dried blood from their clothes and skin, making the crystal-clear water cloudy and red. They were wet but clean, and waited for the dirty water to get carried away downstream before filling the flask with water and beginning their short trek back. 

When they arrived back to the group, Ryan talked to Gavin animatedly about God knows what, Geoff seemed to be listening but he looked distant, and Jeremy looked zoned out, leaning against a tree. Gavin looked up when he saw them coming, grimacing. The gashes on his face looked swollen and irritated, still oozing blood slowly. He talked stiffly like it hurt just to open his mouth. Michael felt bad, somewhere deep inside him.

Ryan took the flask from Jack and repositioned himself so he sat front of Gavin. 

“Don’t be loud.” He said simply, and poured a small amount of water on the biggest wound. The noises Gavin made barely sounded human. He squawked, hissed, and whimpered as the rest of the water ran over his face, washing away excess blood until the water dripped off mostly clear. Ryan apologized the entire time, and Geoff looked away. Jeremy didn’t move.

“Are you done?” Geoff asked, voice breaking.

“Yeah, we need to bandage this up.” Ryan grimaced, peering at the deep gashes in Gavin’s face.

“Is it gonna leave a scar, you reckon?” Gavin asked stiffly, barely moving his jaw.

“Probably.” Geoff said in a monotone.

“Will it look cool?” 

Ryan looked at him incredulously. “It—”

“Yeah,” Geoff chuckled, “It’ll look cool as dicks.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes but smiled the smallest bit, then winced. Geoff laughed.

  
  


By the time everyone got cleaned up and Jack convinced Jeremy, with great difficulty, to start moving, the streets were full of people and horses. Farms were being tended to, shops were being opened, and the sun burned off any residual fog. 

The buildings were tall and close together, leaving almost no alleyways and signs hung out and swung back and forth in the breeze. People were gathered on the sidewalk, watching performers or talking and more people walked in and out of shops with big paper bags full of food or whatever else. Women wore extravagant, colorful dresses and the men accompanying them were tame in comparison, with dark suits and hats. The air was clear, warm, and dry and the hum of civilization pulled Michael in. Three days of being stuck in the middle of the forest fucked with his head a little, not to mention the five faeries who tiptoed around him like he would scream at any sudden movements. Not that he wouldn’t, he was just offended that they  _ thought _ he would. He knew they were making sure he wouldn't go back and tell anyone about them, but he felt like a prisoner.

“Are we going to see Meg?” Gavin asked, pulling Jack’s coat hood closer to his face to hide the hideously inflamed laceration on his cheek. He hissed when the coarse fabric brushed the puckered flesh and Michael winced. 

“Yeah, she should know something about those fuckin’ vampires.” Geoff said quietly.

“Is she still here? I thought they moved after the ghoul attack.” Jack asked.

“Still here, I think.”

They walked past huge houses and shacks and tall shops, even farms and slaughterhouses. They walked forever, it seemed, and weaved around horse-drawn buggies to the middle of the enormous city. The square was packed with performers and artists painting the grand statue of the king, standing tall and important in the center. It was a lot larger and more tended-to than the one in Michael’s village.

“Come on.” Jack called, and Michael reluctantly followed them down the side of the square to the entrance of a dark alley. It was wider than the others, filled with trash and bottles and pieces of clothing. Jack went first and beckoned Michael to follow him. He did, and felt goosebumps crawl up his arms as soon as the shadow touched his skin. 

All he could hear for a minute or so were footsteps, heavy and rhythmic, until the space opened up to what Michael could only assume was a different city. A different world, even. The sun was no longer out and shining over the rooftops, but was hidden behind layers and layers of gray clouds. The loose gravel road was thin and lined by even thinner sidewalks that were pressed against the tall,  _ tall _ buildings. He looked behind him, but the alley was gone.

“Where are we?” Michael asked.

“Easthallow.” Ryan said.

“Wait,  _ this _ is Easthallow?” Michael looked around, not remembering anyone ever describing the second-richest town in Iden as looking this lifeless and cold. He also didn’t remember getting that far away from his home.

“Well, we were in Easthallow before, too. This is just a different part of it. You need a connection to this part to be able to get in.”

“What’s our connection?” Michael asked.

Ryan pulled a rabbit’s foot out of his jacket pocket. It was connected to a rusty old keychain and the fur looked matted and dirty.

“A rabbit’s foot. Really.” Michael wrinkled his nose and Ryan shrugged.

“It can be anything, it just has to come from this world. Some enchantress gave it to me for a potion years and years ago.” He waved it around before tucking it safely back into his breast pocket, smiling. “Gives me luck.”

Michael wondered, for a second, why he was afraid of these people.

“Come on, you pleb.” Gavin bumped Ryan’s shoulder as he passed and Ryan stared after him, smiling fondly. Michael never thought of faeries having friends or having any kind of relationships, it was odd thinking that they had any kind of life outside of killing and maiming anything in sight. Once again, he felt bad about thinking it, and kicked himself. There must have been a reason people hated them, they couldn’t all be this...humanlike. There is substance to every rumor, but he somehow couldn’t imagine Geoff with a child’s arm hanging from his mouth.

Michael shook his head and followed them deeper into the monochrome town that vaguely resembled a scene from a play or a horror novel. They walked by sallow-faced townsfolk who barely acknowledged their passing, and Michael made eye contact with a vaguely familiar woman with blonde hair and a blue hat, she stared back until she rounded the corner. As soon as she was gone, she slipped from his mind. Just a woman. 

“I don’t remember it looking this shitty.” Michael was torn away from his reverie by Jeremy, commenting on a rickety old building, standing tall and sandwiched between some sort of tavern and a closed-down bakery. They all stood, crowding the sidewalk, almost watching with their own eyes as the gray bricks crumbled and the faded blue paint on the door curled and fell like pencil shavings. 

“What did it look like before?” Michael couldn’t imagine it looking any different than the deplorable state it was in now. 

“I mean it didn’t look great, it just,” Jeremy paused, squinting at the dusty windows, “looked different.”

“What is it?” Michael took a step forward and touched a glossy leaf from a sad-looking holly bush planted in the thin strip of earth between the gravel and the base of the building. Orange candle light spilled from the windows, through the drawn lace curtains and shone off the waxy leaf, reflecting slightly and lighting up that portion of the street. It wasn’t an ugly building when he looked harder at it, it just wasn’t kept-up with; but neither were most of the buildings on the street. 

“It’s a library, a friend of ours owns it. She can help us with whatever is going on.” Geoff said, brushing past Michael and resting his hand on the doorknob. He kept it there for a moment, staring ahead blankly, before pushing it open. Warm light greeted Michael and the musty scent of old books and parchment pulled him in. Bookshelves the height of trees reached toward the tall ceiling, and he could see a wooden balcony a story up that continued along the perimeter of the building, a second floor. Candleholders were anchored to the side of every other bookshelf, spreading that comfortable light throughout the building. 

“Meg?” Geoff called, and Gavin removed the hood, rubbing the other side of his face. His wound looked larger than it did before, and the skin around it looked red and irritated. A milky white liquid mixed with blood dripped disgustingly slowly down from the source onto his cheek. The whole side of his face gained a green twinge and it was hard to look at.

“It looks bad, I know.” Gavin said stiffly, he noticed Michael staring.

“Does it hurt?” Michael didn’t want to feel bad for the guy, after all, he  _ had _ been a pain in the ass the entire few days Michael knew him, but it did look painful. 

“Like hell.” He grimaced. Michael nodded. It was impressive, to say the least, that he had endured the pain that long. He had to give him that.

“She has to be here.” Ryan said, looking behind bookshelves on the other side of the room. His voice echoed and Michael didn’t remember the building looking that large from the outside, but it was like a sprawling maze of tall,  _ tall _ bookshelves. 

“Maybe she’s doing something, somewhere.” Geoff reasoned, and Jack shrugged. 

Michael felt himself wandering away from the group but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He walked down the aisles, running his fingers along the rough or smooth spines of the dusty books, all stacked neatly. He felt like he walked forever until he found the end, where there were shelves against the wall full of more books with various gold markings and symbols printed on the sides. When he looked at them too long, his head hurt. 

One book in particular caught his eye. It sat in the middle of the shelf; there was nothing particularly interesting about it. It was small, and the words on the side were almost unreadable, but it looked as if it should say  _ Letters from the Crow.  _ Michael picked it up and weighed it in his hands. It wasn’t dusty like every other book surrounding it. The title was more prevalent on the front cover, in big bold letters. He opened it and noticed the pages were hand-bound to the spine, delicately and almost unnoticeably. On the first page was a dot, rough and off-center, as if someone pressed the tip of a pen too hard onto the paper and it broke. He took the thin paper between his fingers and flipped the page, revealing that it was not a book at all. A handwritten letter stared up at him, stained yellow.

He felt a sudden urge to read it, to forget about Geoff and Meg and the vampires and  _ Joel _ and just read. He couldn’t remember feeling such an intense  _ need _ in his life, and it scared him for a brief moment.

However, before he could flip to the next page, a voice called out and reverberated throughout the room like a bird’s call in an empty forest.  _ A crow _ . “Michael!”, it was Geoff. 

Michael snapped back into reality and stared at the book. It was just that, a book. He realized he was on his knees, and shook his head before slowly returning it to its place on the shelf and got up on shaky legs.

He followed the sound of quiet murmuring coming from the center of the library and emerged from the bookshelf maze a few moments later. A woman he assumed to be Meg sat on a chair in front of Gavin, cleaning his face gently with a rag, and Ryan watched closely. Geoff listened to Jeremy talk, smiling slightly, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. 

“You must be Michael.” Meg stood up, smiling wide. She had bright red hair and a face that would put Aphrodite to shame, and her dark green dress moved like liquid around her ankles, like she controlled the ocean. She approached him and he felt like he should have bowed. 

“You must be Meg.” He smiled back and shook the hand she offered. 

“So what’s your story?” She asked, motioning to the chair next to Gavin. He took it, but gave her a quizzical look.

“Story?” 

She tilted her head. “Yeah, your story. Why are you here? You look like a human.”

Michael looked to Geoff, who was still distracted by Jeremy, and then back to Meg. “I— uh. I’m not sure why I’m here.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Well, Geoff’s keeping me around because he doesn’t want me to tell anyone that there’s a house full of faeries in the woods and get them killed, but other than that, I have no fucking clue.” 

Meg glared at Geoff, and he noticed immediately. Gavin tried not to laugh, and recoiled every time he smiled a little.

“What did I do?” Geoff asked, voice cracking. Jeremy trailed behind him as he headed over. 

“Are you keeping Michael  _ captive _ ?”

Geoff’s eyes widened, then he looked, bewildered, at Michael. “What did you  _ tell _ her?” 

He put his hands up. “Hey, I didn’t say shit. She asked why I’m here and I told her.”

“Anyway,” Meg cut in, “why  _ are _ you here? The lot of you?” She set the bloody rag down in a wooden bowl full of water. “And what happened to Gavin?”

“Vampires.” Ryan said, simply.

“Well, sort of vampires. They were ugly, and a bitch to whack.” Geoff explained, fiddling with a wooden cross from one of the shelves tentatively. “I was wondering if you knew of any clans of vampires going, you know. Rotten.”

“Mica, maybe? Lindsay?” 

Geoff shook his head thoughtfully. “They didn’t look like part of either of their clans. They were older, I think. They were angry.”

“Well, you know why they look like that, Geoff.”

His grip on the cross tightened and he winced. “Yeah, but that can’t be.”

Meg shrugged, reaching into a wicker basket and pulling from it a wad of torn, white bandages. “Not everything is what it seems, Geoff.”

Geoff shivered. He put the cross down and Michael could see an angry red and black mark where it was resting in his palm.

“What does that mean?” Michael blurted out. He hated feeling out of his depth, this was a whole different world to him. A terrifying, large world that he didn’t know existed.

Geoff just pressed his hand to the side of his head and sighed. “It’s a long story, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid.” Michael barked. “Don’t patronize me, If you’re going to drag me along everywhere then you should tell me what’s going on.”

Meg smiled lightly and continued dabbling the cloth on Gavin’s face, cleaning the gray skin around the wound. “Yeah, Geoff. He’s not kidding.”

Geoff stared at Michael, wide eyed. When his surprise faded he smiled easily, regaining his cool composure. “Well, there were vampires a long time ago that fought against humans and, well, us. But I didn’t think any of them could have survived this long. They did look old, though. I’ve never seen any that gross.” He said thoughtfully. “I don’t know how they found us, either.”

“Maybe they smelled human.” Gavin sneered, then winced. Served him right.

Meg turned her attention back to Gavin. The cut on his face looked less dirty, but now Michael could see the strips of torn flesh hanging from the inner corners of the wound, and fresh blood dripped onto his black pants. “This is gonna hurt.” Meg warned, and Gavin gripped the table.

“Yeah, yeah, get on with it.” He said through gritted teeth.

She poured a clear, pungent liquid onto the bandage and blew on it, then ripped a piece of adhesive tape from the spool and held it between her teeth, making quick eye contact with Gavin to make sure he was ready. He nodded slightly.

She quickly pressed the bandage to Gavin’s face and an inhuman sound escaped his lips. He gripped the chair arms and stomped his feet and screamed loudly, animalistically. Geoff had his eyes closed and Ryan had a firm hand on his shoulder like he was keeping him in place. Jeremy just watched, sympathetic. 

A few minutes felt like an eternity while Gavin writhed around and endured whatever kind of hellish pain he was experiencing. When he finally stopped that awful, shiver-inducing screaming and moaning, Meg quickly swapped the bloody rag with a fresh new one and stuck it haphazardly to his face. It looked better than anything they could’ve done so they were thankful, but Gavin was sweating and shaking and Michael had to look away. There was something wrong about looking at a man, well  – a faerie, and feel sympathy. He never thought his life would come to this.

Gavin was silent for a moment, then laughed breathily. “That it?” 

Geoff cackled and Ryan shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. Michael stood off to the side, feeling awkward and out of place. He felt out of place a lot lately, like he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere he ended up. Like he was dragged from where he was supposed to be and superimposed onto another scene. These guys — dammit,  _ not _ guys — were all so close and Michael was being  _ held _ and they knew he would run as soon as he could. They knew, so they didn’t really interact too intimately with him. Polite smiles and words of greeting like they were talking to a rarely-seen acquaintance. Michael didn’t expect them to treat him like they did each other, and he was glad they didn’t. He was, after all, a human among a throng of faeries that could, if they wanted to, kill him with a wave of their hand.

So he stood, silent and longing to go home, as Gavin breathed and recovered. 


	3. Three

Michael washed the blood and bits of flesh from his stinking hands, straight-faced as he cleaned beneath his cracked nails. The water in the bucket looked pink and cloudy when he finished and he made a note to dump it out before he closed up. He returned to the counter and wiped down his station for any extra pieces of bone or meat left on the cutting block. The stench of raw pig and cow and sheep had no impact on him anymore, he got used to it after the first few weeks working with the butcher. 

He remembered being wary of such messy and low-paying labor, but after Jack dropped him off in his village after talking with Meg he couldn’t stand being there alone, farming and farming until he died in that same house. So, he took a job in the center of Rochdale to occupy his time.

“Excuse me?” A woman stood in front of the counter, her blonde hair pinned back with a blue ribbon. Her voice reminded Michael of a bell, high and clear, and she wore an elegant dress. Too elegant to be standing in a butcher’s at dusk without some sort of escort or servant. She looked vaguely familiar.

“Yes ma’am?” He put the bloody rag down and out of the way.

“Do you happen to have any hearts?”

He was taken aback, briefly. “Hearts?”

“Yes. Pig hearts, preferably.” 

He shook himself before smiling again. _Be polite_. “How many?”

She tapped her chin, blue eyes squinting at something behind him. There was nothing there. “Five. No — six.”

“I’ll be right back.” He retreated to the back where the animals were gutted and shook his head as he dug around in a pail of organs. Lungs and livers slid around in blood as he pushed them out of the way, searching for hearts. _Who needed six goddamn hearts?_

He finally fished the right amount from the mess of cold entrails and wrapped them individually in paper. He had to use two paper bags so one wouldn’t be too heavy, and finally returned to the counter. She sat in a chair at the front of the room by the door, and smiled when he appeared. 

“Wow, can’t believe you had that many. You sold a lot of meat today?” 

He handed her the bags and nodded. “I can’t believe we had that many either. I don’t remember cutting up six pigs today, but I guess I must have.”

She set the bags on the counter again and fished around in her purse resting on her hip. “Will this cover it?” A small burlap sack was thrown on the counter and Michael gasped.

“Oh — uh, no. I mean yes, but that’s too much. They’re just hearts.”

She shrugged and picked up her bags. “I don’t need it.”

“Lady, I can’t take this.” Michael called after her, but she just turned around and winked before closing the door behind her with a click. He was left standing there, confused with a heavier-than-he-thought bag of coins in his hands.

  
  


Michael loved walking home.

The sun was just setting over the mountains in the distance and the orange glow made everything look like it was on fire. The horses’ hooves _clip clopped_ on the cobblestone streets and carriage wheels shook and rattled as they rolled over uneven stones and rocks. People talked and music played from somewhere and the streets were full and would remain full until midnight, the town’s curfew. 

The main part of Rochdale was a two-hour walk from Cirrane, Michael’s village. He passed wide expanses of wheat fields tended by rarely-seen farmers and the occasional rowan grove, and travelled straight through Carran, another village. It was a sleepy place, and even the stray dogs moved slowly during the warm afternoons. They didn’t have the cooling cover of trees and steep hills surrounding it like Cirrane did. It was a small farmer’s town on the border of Rochdale, and provided most of the town’s wheat and tomatoes. 

He took the tan dirt road straight through the village, passing dark venders who left for the night and silent horse stables. Michael wasn’t scared of the dark, maybe because of the absence of forest around. Or, he already knew what could happen. He stopped in the middle of the road. 

He knew what could happen, he knew the worst of it. _He hoped he knew the worst of it._

He kept walking, though considerably slower. 

The more he thought of faeries and demons and whatever else the more paranoid he got, the more his mind made things up to make him think they were coming, they were _so close_ —

He let out a breath and straightened his back, determined. There was nothing there. Nothing was behind him, in front of him or above him. It had been months, almost a year, since he last saw Jeremy or any of the others, and some part of him was glad he could get back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be without anyone to talk to in the town. He missed Jeremy, as much as he hated to admit it.

He walked past small farms and cow pastures, and by the time the sun had completely disappeared and every trace of light and color left the sky, he reached the collapsed barrier that was the official entrance to the village. Two large stone monoliths stood on either side of the cracked cobblestone street that would stop as soon as it reached the square, and a short wall that appeared to once serve as some sort of protection were all in disrepair. What was left looked like it belonged in the distant graveyard. 

The people were all in their houses by the time the sun went down, afraid once more of the things they couldn’t see. Cirrane was surrounded by dark forest, so everyone was boarded in their houses when darkness came. Some woman he passed in the morning before work called him crazy for walking around this late at night every night, but he ignored her. He knew it was crazy and dangerous, but he still couldn’t stand being there alone every day. 

He walked slowly past the place where he saw Joel _(was that Joel?)_ running into the forest all those months ago.

The air was getting cooler, fractionally so, but cooler nonetheless. He felt comfortable as he walked, hands in his pockets, not daring to whistle as to startle anyone still awake and listening inside their house. He rounded the corner and his house was there, as it always had been, nestled in a small clearing surrounded by a thin cover of trees. It was quaint, to put it nicely. Jeremy helped him build it when they were first acquainted, when Michael still stayed in an inn a little bit outside Carran. It had one room and two windows, one in the front by the door and another in the back, facing the dark woods. Next to it was a small plot of farmland that he used to tend to every day, but was now dried up and disused.

Inside was a bed, a washbasin, and a small table in the corner for writing. He approached his house, but something was off. 

The door was open.

He hurried to the side, behind a tree but close enough to peer through the window. Dry bark dug into his hand as he leaned forward, squinting. He just couldn’t _see._

He got closer, and closer, until he was crouched under the window. Soft soil and now crushed flowers sunk under his heavy feet but he just sat still and listened. He heard footsteps and low voices, like more than one person broke in. 

He moved up slowly until he could peer through the warped glass but all he could see were dark shapes moving around in the light from the moon shining through the opposite window. He could barely see his desk and bed overturned and papers all over the floor. Before he could move or do anything, really, the door slammed open and Michael fell back into the dirt, heart racing.

A man with wide blue eyes appeared in the doorway, his lean body stiff and tense. His face was covered in shadow, but his eyes shone through the dark and reflected the light of the rising moon. He stared for a moment, stock still, before disappearing back inside the house. Michael scrambled to get up and get the _hell_ out of there but that man appeared again with a friend. The latter was considerably larger in build with a slight beard, towering above Michael.

“You’re Michael.” The man with the blue eyes wasn’t asking, he knew.

“Get out of my goddamn house!” Michael spat, kicking and moving backwards. The other man caught Michael’s foot under his and stepped down hard. He clicked his tongue as Michael struggled.

“I’ve got this, just keep looking.” He said to the blue-eyed man, face straight.

“Just remember the plan, Adam.”

“Oh, I do.”

He went inside again, and Adam stood over a still-struggling Michael, smiling now. 

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Michael hissed, pulling and pulling his foot.

“Something that you shouldn’t have.” He lifted his foot, finally, and Michael scrambled backwards until his back hit the house. He stood, favoring his sore appendage. Adam was standing between him and the road.

“I don’t have anything, I don’t even know who the hell you are!” Michael shouted, hoping someone would hear him.

“We were sent here to get something, what the fuck was it — a tooth.” Adam’s arms were crossed casually, but Michael felt trapped against the side of the house.

“I don’t have anyone’s teeth, you’re fucking crazy.”

“We know you got it from someone, who was that again?” 

Michael was baffled. “I told you, I don’t have any fucking teeth!”

Adam rubbed the side of his face slowly, thoughtfully. “I’d believe you if your house didn’t reek of faeries.”

Michael froze. He still had the shirt Ryan gave him slung on the back of his chair. He didn’t notice any specific smell it gave off, and by now he assumed it probably would have worn off.

Adam smirked. “Gotcha.”

“Who are you?” Michael demanded, though fear was wracking his body.

“Don’t piss yourself. Stand up straight.” He motioned Michael up and he obeyed, albeit slowly. Adam clapped his hand on his shoulder and brought him forward so Michael’s back was facing the thin layer of woods separating his and his neighbor’s land. He considered running but was stuck under Adam’s iron grip. “Just don’t lie to me.” He said pleasantly.

“I’m not lying.” Michael tried to sound as sincere as he could, but the casual air surrounding Adam dissipated. His face hardened and he looked even more terrifying than before. He set his jaw and took his hand back.

At that moment, Michael made a dash for the road. 

His heart slammed against his chest with every breath he took and he saw the earth moving under him in a blur as he ran as fast as he could. Before he could get too hopeful, something grabbed his leg and pulled hard. His teeth rattled and he immediately tasted blood as his chin hit the ground and the breath left his lungs leaving him writhing around, gasping like a fish for oxygen. Adam stomped down hard on his upper back and he immediately wanted to cough, but he had no air in his screaming lungs. He was dragged roughly back and hauled up to his knees.

He barely had time to recover before a fist connected with the side of his face and he hit the ground again, groaning loudly. His head was spinning and bile rose in his throat, stinging and burning. Adam kicked him hard just below his right collarbone and he howled for a split second before Adam kicked him savagely in the stomach.

“I’ll ask again.” Adam crouched down to Michael’s height, “Where’s the tooth?” Michael, with a burst of unwelcome bravery, looked up through his also unwelcome tears and spat a mouthful of blood onto Adam’s face. He sat there, shocked, for a moment before wiping it slowly off his cheek. “Good one. Original.”

Michael opened his mouth to respond with whatever breath he had left when another skull-rattling blow caused his vision to fade. He felt warm blood dripping down from somewhere above his eye and maybe from his nose.

Michael practically growled and Adam was preparing for _another_ swing when the door to his house swung open and Michael didn’t hang around to see who it was. He shot up, dizzily again, and used the rest of his energy to keep sprinting until he was surrounded by oil-black trees and slippery pine needles. He didn’t stop when he heard giggling or when he heard shouting behind him or when the tilting and jerking of the world around him threatened to pull him to the ground.

He remembered what Gavin said about the forest guiding him back and, even though he felt ridiculous, knew he had only that to help him. He surrendered himself to the forest and hoped Gavin wasn’t kidding. He was slowing down but he couldn’t hear through the pounding from his heart in his ears and hoped to God that Adam wasn’t following him. 

He slowed, finally, to a stop and put his hands on his knees, gulping in air like he’d been holding his breath for years. As soon as he could, he glanced behind him to see… nothing. He expected Adam or trees or the leaf-covered ground but there was nothing. It wasn’t black or white or anything, it was just empty. He looked forward and saw a normal scene, trees and the works, then back. There, in the distance, he saw the house. He couldn’t tell if there were lights, everything was black. He was exhausted and in pain and didn’t have the mental capacity to try to understand what just happened so he turned around and stumbled forward on unsteady legs. 

With heavy steps that shook the plants when he approached, he made it to the door and knocked slowly, heavily. There was a long pause and Michael leant against the side of the house, breathing deep through his mouth. If no one was home he would just pass out on the dark porch, he had no problem with that; he would just rather have been within the relative safety of a house full of five faeries. _What a ridiculous thought._

Seconds before he would have given up, the door opened and a sliver of flickering light fell like a spider’s line along the soggy wooden porch. Michael could see a green eye and nothing else. “Gavin?” He asked, breathlessly still, and the door closed again. It opened fully a moment later and there Gavin was, standing tall and confused in the hallway. An ugly white mark donned his otherwise smooth cheek and almost glowed in the candlelight from the holder in his hand. 

“Michael? What are you doing here? What the hell happened to you?” Gavin greeted him, taking a small step backwards. 

Before Michael could say anything, he heard a loud voice shouting in the forest, sing-songing his name. “ _Mi_ -chael! Oh, _Mi_ -chael!”

Gavin pulled him inside by the arm and closed the door quietly behind him. He blew out the candle and they were plunged into thick darkness. It was suffocatingly quiet, neither of them breathed. Michael’s whole body seemed to be throbbing and he was having difficulty taking deep breaths.

He heard loud footsteps edging nearer, and he knew he was dead. There was no way Adam would pass up the house sitting, very conspicuously, in the middle of the goddamn forest. 

He lurched back, attempting to get away from the door, but Gavin grabbed his forearm with a hand that was surprisingly strong. His eyes glowed in the dark and he looked angry. Michael froze and listened to the footsteps coming nearer and nearer—

“ _Mi_ -chael.” A small voice cooed, and Michael gave a great shiver. He didn’t dare breathe, Gavin’s nails dug into his wrist and he heard the groaning of the old porch as Adam stood, still as well, on the other side of the door. The doorknob jiggled violently and Michael jumped. His shoes clapped against the floor and it creaked under his weight; a tense, dead silence followed as Michael stood with a hand smothering his breaths and Gavin staring at the door with ferocious intensity.

Adam didn’t move until a minute and sixteen seconds later, Michael was counting, and they heard his heavy footsteps move down the steps and further away as he called Michael’s name.

“Who the hell was that?” Gavin whispered suddenly, and dropped Michael’s arm as if it had burnt him. 

Michael was struggling to steady his pounding heart. “I don’t know, they broke into my fucking house. They—”

“Why did you come _here_ though? You led a human here, and a persistent one at that. What if he comes back with more?” Gavin bolted the door shut and turned on Michael, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what Jack or Geoff or whoever told you, but you can’t just come here every time you hear a noise you don’t like.”

“He was trying to fucking kill me!” Michael exclaimed incredulously. 

“You have knights and guards and armymen everywhere, why didn’t you go to _them_?” Gavin shouted.

Michael grew flustered. The truth was: he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he didn’t find a guard on the outskirts of the village, or even run as far as Carran for their more seasoned men. He immediately thought to plunge, headfirst, into the forest that he wouldn’t have dreamed of entering before he met the strange group.

Gavin seemed to take Michael’s silence as an affirmation and sighed heavily. 

“You humans are bloody worthless.” He stated, before turning and leaving the room. Michael was left, standing indignant and alone in the sitting room. The only light came from a high window near the ceiling, but the stained glass scattered it and cast strange, colorful, splintered shapes across the opposite wall. He could see, just barely, dust motes travelling from the stirred ground upward to the light. When he looked closer, after his eyes adjusted, he saw that everything in the room was covered in a thin layer of dust except for in the spots where he and Gavin walked. It was strange, like nothing had been touched in a while.

Gavin reentered the room, bringing with him light from a new candle and a rag which he tossed at Michael. His face was drawn, contempt shining through his sharp features. The scar on his cheek was just as large as the raw wound was, months ago, and it created a mountain-like topography on his face. It stretched the skin when he changed his expressions.

“Don't drip blood everywhere.” Gavin advised, and an annoyingly condescending tone invaded his voice. Michael held his tongue, for he knew Gavin had no reason, at the moment, to even keep him in the house. He pressed the rag to his nose and when he pulled it back to assess the damage, the fabric had already soaked through to his fingers. He hadn’t noticed he was still bleeding.

Gavin wrinkled his nose but watched, diligently and very obviously, as Michael proceeded to stem the flow of blood from his lip, nose and forehead and wipe the excess from his face. He held onto the bloody rag for some time after finishing, not wanting to ask Gavin where to put the ruined article. Even after Michael finished doing anything mildly interesting, Gavin was still watching. His face was pallid and the light from the candle cast extreme shadows on his face that made his cheekbones protrude.

Michael coughed, and Gavin reacted as if he had struck him. He stood up straight, eyes bulging, and crossed his arms tightly.

Michael apologized, confused and frightened. Gavin seemed very volatile, like a feral animal. He seemed different. He was thinner, and his clothes hung off him. 

After a moment, Michael decided talking might diffuse the situation.

“Uh, where are the others?” He asked.

“What?”

“The others.” Michael repeated, mildly concerned. It was very dusty. “Geoff, Jeremy, Ryan, Jack…?”

“Oh, they’re—” Gavin narrowed his eyes suddenly, switching from nervous to suspicious in an instant. “Why?”

Michael resisted the urge to groan or sigh and forced a neutral expression. He _so_ hoped someone else would come soon, his patience with Gavin was wearing thin.

“Just wondering.”

Gavin regarded him skeptically and crossed his arms. He didn’t reply.

Michael bit his tongue, he was trying not to say or do anything to set Gavin off but he could only stifle his personality for so long. 

“Well?” He prompted. 

“They’re out, they should be back soon.” Gavin responded tersely.

Michael didn’t believe the vague reply, but nodded anyway.

Gavin’s face twisted suddenly, and he bit his lip as if to keep the words in his mouth. He was acting strange; stranger than he was when they met. Then, Michael noticed, there were marks on Gavin’s exposed arms and some on his neck. One stretched from his forearm to right under his jaw, where it broke off in a ragged scar that extended from his chin to his ear. They were pink, not as old as the one on his face, and ragged. He kept moving his hand along his jaw and over his arms every once in a while.

“What’s with…?” Michael motioned to his own neck.

Gavin rubbed the exposed skin nervously.

“An accident.” His face steeled again, “Why do you _care?_ ”

“Holy shit, okay, what did I do?” Michael shouted without conscious volition. “What did I do to make you feel like you have to be a fucking dick _all the time?_ ”

Gavin stared at him for a moment, anger visibly building in his eyes, to the point that Michael felt genuinely scared. He got too comfortable, he had to remind himself that Gavin wasn’t a human.

“This,” He touched the corrugated skin of his neck, “wasn’t an accident.” Michael didn’t speak and Gavin made no indication that he wanted him to. “A group of _humans_ from Easthallow attacked Jeremy and I when we were out doing a job.” 

He pulled down the collar of his shirt to expose a large, circular scar that dimpled the flesh of his right chest. It was darker around the edges where the flesh singed and burned. “They held me down and stuck a torch right here, they thought faerie’s hearts are on the opposite side of the chest and tried getting to mine. When I tried to get away, one got a knife and—” He dragged his hand along the scar that ran from the burn to his jaw.

Michael, horrified, opened his mouth to speak but Gavin stood up and stepped forward. His finger was still hooked on his shirt collar and he craned his neck forward, lips drawn. “You want to know _why_ I don’t trust you?” Michael shrank back, but Gavin advanced again. “You want to know _why_ I think humans are the _real_ monsters?”

“Stop, I get it.”

“We used to protect you. We helped you when you were dying off like animals, and now we’re banished to the forest. You think your king only kills us when we’re a _danger_ to you?” Gavin spat. He was beginning to talk faster and Michael scrambled to stand up straight, but Gavin soon had him backed up against the wall. “They find us and they kill us, they burn down entire settlements in cold blood.”

Michael bristled. “Fucking liar.”

“Liar?” Gavin laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not a bloody liar, it happened to me. It happened to my family. _You’re_ the monsters.” He poked Michael in the center of his chest and his shoulder blades knocked against the hollow wall. Michael, in his ever-growing rage, shoved Gavin off him. The way he moved his arms sent a shockwave of pain through his chest and collarbone. Gavin stumbled but righted himself, teeth bared. It was strange, as if his face wasn’t meant to portray that much aggression. It didn’t look natural, but Michael’s anger replaced and overpowered his fear.

“I’ve seen whole bands of monsters attacking innocent villages and cities — _my_ village was attacked when I was young. Half of our people were slaughtered.” Michael shouted. Something stroked the back of his mind, something bright and scared. It wanted him to stop, Gavin could kill him in the blink of an eye. He could rip out his jugular and watch him bleed all over the wooden floors—

“Those were demons, probably. They have nothing to do with us.”

“Demons.” Michael’s voice faltered. “No, no — they weren’t demons. They looked like humans.” He narrowed his eyes. “They looked like _you_.”

“What the hell do you think demons look like?” Gavin spat.

Michael opened his mouth but all that came out was a sort of cut-off noise, like someone punched him suddenly. Gavin shook his head.

“You don’t know anything.” He turned around, but Michael could hear the scorn in his voice. “Geoff said you were confused, he never said you were an idiot.”

At that, Gavin stalked away. Michael watched him disappear but didn’t make to move, himself. The anger that flooded his body left him, and he felt cold and empty without its warmth. He wished he never came back, he wished he stayed and let Adam do whatever he wanted with him. Nothing he did made anything better anyway.

The dust that they disturbed during the commotion made him sneeze. He looked around in the flickering candlelight, at the books and the papers and the covered chairs. It was strangely unsettling, and he decided he would rather be alone out in the midnight forest than with Gavin in the strangely void house.

He took the candle without remorse and walked out. He left the door open and cruelly wished something would get in. It was cooler, but no breeze travelled through the thick-trunked forest. It was still and cold, like snow. The faint sound of nature stirring was absent, leaving only the amplified noise of wax burning and fire popping and fizzing. He walked, and every footstep was like an earthquake. Leaves broke and crunched under his shoes and pine needles grunted with every step. 

Soon, he was surrounded by normal trees and normal air, but the fear gripping his chest didn’t leave. He was still in unfamiliar territory, with only a candle and the knowledge that there were demons and spriggans and trolls running amuck everywhere, as well as those men. _They could be anywhere._

He just hoped he would make it back to Cirrane and be able to report what he saw to the first guard he came across. He would return to work in the morning and put this behind him.

“Us, killers.” Michael scoffed, remembering the outrageous accusations Gavin made. “They’re the ones keeping us trapped.” He shook his head and tried to shield the small flame from a sudden gust of wind.

Far away, he heard a twig snap followed by a small voice. It was indistinguishable, but Michael blew out the candle in a panic and crouched down. He felt a thicket of pointy briar beside him and, ignoring the pinpricks of pain in his hands, felt around it until he put a barrier between himself and where the noise was sourced. He kept the smoking, put-out candle tight in his hands and waited with baited breath. The wax melted around and between his fingers and the smoke tickled his nose.

Closer, another noise. Like footsteps but without pattern. One foot was being dragged, disturbing their obvious attempt at stealth. The voice became clear and turned out to be two.

“Could you _be_ any louder?”

Two shadows were walking slowly past Michael’s hiding place, and an unwanted feeling of relief washed over him when he recognized the complaint as Ryan’s.

“Hey, it’s not my fault. I wanted to stay back with Gavin but _no-o._ ” Jeremy’s voice drawled, “Apparently this was a four person mission. Bullshit.” He complained.

“Gavin had to stay back. You know he hates leaving the house now. You’ll live.” Ryan said, and they continued slowly making their way towards where Michael came from. His tongue got caught in a knot when he attempted to call out or say anything.

“Two months, though.” Jeremy said, and sighed. “I hope Gav is okay. He doesn’t take care of himself right when we are all there, I hope he didn’t starve to death.”

He shifted on his heels and one of the shadows stopped. They were dead silent. Michael nearly choked on the breath caught in his lungs and suppressed a surprised cough. 

“It’s probably just a troll.” Jeremy said.

Ryan uttered a quiet “Hush.” and Michael committed to staying stock-still. It was too late to willingly expose himself, it would look suspicious. A noise like heavy equipment being set down greeted Michael’s ears.

“What are you doing? Can we get going, with my leg it will take forever to get home.” Jeremy whined, but Ryan shushed him again. Michael heard Ryan’s light footsteps approach the briars and he held his breath.

“Who’s there?” Ryan asked, quietly but demanding. 

“No one is there. We need to get back, Ryan. Geoff and Jack are going to get there before us.” Jeremy called. Michael heard Ryan’s soft breaths from the other side of the briars, and then his footsteps as he walked away. Michael released a relieved breath when they were out of earshot.

_Stupid, they could have helped you._

He wanted to slap himself. He couldn’t deal with Adam and the others by himself if they came back for him with their teeth obsession, but a thought invaded his mind: they’re just humans. Geoff would probably laugh at him for enlisting his help for a few lowly humans picking on another who they kept as a pet for a few days. 

Michael left the candle and holder on the ground when he stood up, and began edging along the outline of the prickly bush he cowered behind.

He didn’t get very far before he heard another noise, but it wasn’t Ryan and Jeremy that time.

“I can’t believe he fucking got away.” The voice said, and it sent violent shivers down Michael’s spine. The voice was high and angry, it belonged to the blue-eyed man who accompanied Adam. 

Michael slipped back into the cover of the bushes and tried to ignore the thorns that snagged his clothes and attached themselves to his arms and neck. His beaten body screamed in protest but there was nothing he could do.

“He couldn’t have gone far.” Another unfamiliar voice said. He didn’t sound upset, he was mostly trying to placate the other. “Adam beat him up pretty good, I think.”

“Isn’t there a vampire clan somewhere close to here? What if they already got to him?”

“James, calm down. We’ll find him and get what we need.”

“What _we_ need? Bruce, I’ll be sent to Astuk if I don’t get these fucking teeth.” James sounded hysterical, his voice was growing in pitch. “I can’t go back there, I have to do this.” 

Bruce didn’t reply, they continued walking in silence until Michael could no longer hear their footsteps. Wet, hot fear climbed up his throat and he felt like he was going to vomit or pass out. He didn’t know what Astuk was, or why they needed him so badly, but he knew he couldn’t go back to his home. They knew where he lived now, and they could return and take him any time.

He sat there, alone in the dirt for a while. It seemed like the night lasted longer than it usually did, and only when the faintest bit of pale light began peeking through the trees did he move. His legs were stiff and his face felt like trodden earth but he stretched anyway, unlocking his fixed joints and stress-locked knees. The muscles high on his back and below his neck screamed but he ignored it until his arms went numb and dropped. His head and chest throbbed. He ripped his clothes from their bramble prison and stumbled into a tree.

He clung to it, the normal, solid, _real_ tree. It didn’t move or talk or frighten him, it just stood there. He wished things would just stay normal, for once in his goddamn life. When his town wasn’t being invaded by demons or his best friend wasn’t revealing to him that he was a faerie, humans caused his problems. 

He pressed his forehead to the tree. _Everyone is fucked up. Every_ thing _is fucked up._

Exactly when things started making sense, for once in his life, he had to be dragged back where he didn’t belong again.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank U for the response to this story! Hope u enjoy...

The second time knocking on the grand wooden door was decidedly more difficult.

Michael stood, scraped up and putting on an air of confidence, next to an army of small potted plants on perhaps the most rotted and unstable porch he had ever seen. It was almost uninhabitable, the outside rafters were being held up by spare pieces of timber and, on one side, a giant metal part of some kind. In the pale light of morning the house looked ghostly, like no one lived there at all. Michael never regarded it as a being itself, but if he did he could imagine it sighing like a tired old man.

Tall grass grew up from between the split boards of the ground and tickled the green-and-beige-stained walls, and the windows facing the porch were blocked from the inside. The air smelled humid despite the dry weather and of old, rotting wood. He huffed, attempting to build up the courage to knock on the door. All he had to do was knock, and endure the possibly awkward exchange he would have with whoever answered the door.

_ Please don’t be Gavin. _

He knocked, quick and sharp, on the thick door. The sound resounded in his ears and he immediately wanted to retreat.

However, before he could take a step back, the door swung open freely. It was unlike the suspicious and paranoid manner in which Gavin approached the situation, and Michael was relieved before he even saw Jeremy’s face in the doorway. He looked tired, his hair was shorter, and half of his body was hidden behind the door; but he looked normal. 

“Michael?” He craned his neck further to peer at him. A frown decorated his face, then, “Oh god, what happened to you?”

“I need to talk to Geoff.” Michael said, and he did. Jeremy didn’t press, he just opened the creaky door further and shifted out of the way. His left leg dragged uselessly at his side but he didn’t seem all too burdened by it.

“He’s wandering around somewhere, I’ll get him.” He said, and limped heavily off into the other room. Michael stayed standing, he couldn’t help but to feel strangely vulnerable with his back to the door. 

Geoff entered the room moments later, Jeremy on his heels. He wore a linen button-up and dirty farmer’s overalls as if he was playing a working man in a play, and draped over his shoulders was a strange brown cape that was shredded and stained at the bottom seam. His beard was overgrown and his face looked thinner.

“Why are you here? What happened?” Geoff asked and drew his eyebrows together.

“I was attacked, but —” Michael couldn’t think of the right words to say. “I’m not, uh, worried about that right now.”

“Okay, what is it then?” 

“Some guys broke into my house, and they were being weird.” Michael began, and when he saw the interested look on Geoff’s face he continued, “One of them kept rambling about teeth and some place called… uh, Artus? Astus—”

Geoff looked thoughtful, but his eyes turned serious when he said, “Astuk?”

“It’s a real place?”   
Geoff’s expression gave away nothing, but he stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

“It  _ was _ a real place,” He began carefully, “but I don’t know how a human would know what it is.”

“What is it?”

Geoff clicked his tongue. “What did the man who attacked you look like?”

“No, don’t pull that shit. I want to know.” Michael said firmly. “What is Astuk?”

Geoff sighed and sat down heavily in one of the wooden chairs. He rubbed his hand down his face and Michael noticed the red-and-purple bags under his eyes.

“It was a correction camp during the war a long,  _ long _ time ago.”

“So it’s gone now, right?”

“Yeah, it was destroyed during a battle.”   
Michael paused, confused.

“Wait, but one of them was talking about it. Like, present tense.”   
“What?”

“Yeah, he was saying that he had to get the teeth or else he would be sent back there.” Geoff stared at him, eyes wide, but didn’t say anything. Michael continued, “I overheard them — well, two of them talking about it while I was hiding in the woods.”   
“Michael, what did they look like?” Geoff’s voice was steady and calculated, as if he was testing the words out as he said them.

Michael wracked his brain for specific details. “The one who was talking about Astuk was called James, he had crazy blue eyes but I didn’t get a good look at his face.”

Geoff’s gaze was protected, purposefully blank.

“Adam was the one who beat the shit out of me, I tried telling him that I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about but he didn’t believe me.”

“Adam and James.” Geoff repeated.

“There were others but I didn’t see them.” Michael paused. “Oh, but James was walking with another one… uh, Bruce.”

“Have you ever seen them before?”

“No.”

“Jeremy.” Geoff said, and turned. Jeremy was leant against the wall next to the door, eyes closed. Michael forgot he was there.  _ “Jeremy.” _ Geoff repeated, and the other woke with a start. He blinked and sighed.

“Geoff, it’s too early.”

Geoff ignored his complaint. “Take Michael to the spare.”

“No, tell me what’s going on.” Michael argued.

Geoff dropped his head into his hands and chuckled weakly.

“You weren’t this difficult last time.”

“Geoff, I can’t have this shit affecting my life after I leave here. People are already suspicious of me after being gone for a few days without being able to tell them why. I could be sent to an asylum, they think I’m crazy.”

“An asylum?” Jeremy said, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, I took a job in Rochdale and they think I’m not afraid of walking back and forth in the dark because I’m a part of some organization with vampires now.”

“That sounds more like treason than insanity.” Geoff said.

“A noble from Rochdale came to my house a while ago and questioned me, I convinced him that I don’t remember what happened when I was gone. They already don’t trust me, all they need is a reason to throw me in there.”

“You just left for a couple days though, why didn’t you say you were visiting someone in Rochdale?” Geoff asked, fiddling with a buckle on his overalls. 

“Most of the cities in Iden have walls around them, including Rochdale. The two entrances are being watched very closely right now, they take note of everyone who comes in. I guess there have been more invasions.”

Geoff nodded thoughtfully.

“I’d rather go to an asylum than be hanged.” Michael added, and Jeremy winced. 

Geoff sighed and leaned back in his chair after a moment. “Okay, Michael, what do you want to know?” 

“Why were you all gone until today?”

“How did you know that?” Jeremy asked.

“Well, I was here last night right after Adam attacked me. I didn’t know where to go and he was following me and this was the only place I could think of. Gavin let me in but we… argued. I tried to find my way back on my own, but those guys are still out there looking for me. I saw you walking before I came back here.”

“Gavin let you in?” Geoff asked, shock evident in his voice.

“Yeah, he was weird though. He would go from being jumpy and quiet to fucking screaming at me about how humans are monsters so I left.”

Geoff sighed and rubbed his face again. He looked older.

It was hushed for a moment until Geoff began, “He and Jeremy were attacked by a group of humans from a radical church in Easthallow, it really freaked Gavin out. He would have died if Jeremy didn’t get them off of him.” He explained. 

Michael looked over at Jeremy, who smiled sheepishly. “Meg saved me from being a complete cripple but this leg is fucked.” He patted his upper thigh with his hand. “These guys were crazy, they had a witch’s spell that could have paralyzed us. They only caught me when I tried to get Gavin away.”

Michael sat there, stunned. He never heard of humans attacking faeries or any other monster if it wasn’t necessary. Geoff was eyeing him.

“That’s—” Michael shut his mouth. Something inside him told him not to feel bad for them; they were  _ faeries _ and Jeremy lied to him for years, but he did. His lack of apathy scared him and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Meg fixed us up pretty well.” Jeremy assured.

“I’m just surprised Gavin let you in. He’s hated humans since I’ve known him. It's even worse now.” Geoff said.

“He mentioned that humans attacked his family.”

Geoff winced. “Yeah. He lived in a wandering settlement, and they camped out somewhere too close to the edge of some town. The humans… ah. They burned it down.”

“And his family?”

“They died in the fire, as well as the rest of their group.” Geoff gave a small apologetic smile. “He was over it for a while, but that attack messed him up again.”

Michael sat there for a moment, absorbing. He never heard of any humans killing faeries, or anything really, in cold blood like that.

“Michael has always hated faeries, and look at him. He changed.” Jeremy joked, and Michael glared at him. “A little.”

“Michael has a reason, he was taught that since he was a child.” Geoff reasoned, but glanced at Michael quickly. “But any mind can be changed.” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, we were in Easthallow to help get rid of some ghouls who were stealing children. It took longer than we thought.”

“Two months?” 

Geoff grimaced. “Yeah, two months.”

“I fucking hate ghouls.” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “They smell disgusting. I don’t know how humans don’t realize they're there.”

“They look like humans too?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, but they’re a little pinker and uglier.” Jeremy said.

Michael sighed. He didn’t like to think that all the things he was afraid of as a child are indistinguishable in a crowd.

Silence followed, tainted only by the sound of birds chirping in the early morning and each of their breathing. Slivers of light peeked from around the weaved blankets that were nailed up in front of the windows and gave them halos. Michael leaned against the corner of the wall next to the door and peered out at one of the bruised trees. It stared back but he didn’t look away. As he looked at it, the reds and purples shifted to lighter hues of orange and pink, and finally to bright golden yellow. The leaves shimmered and glistened like gold, and when one fell from its metal branch the light that caught it reflected everywhere. Michael, amazed, moved the hem of the blanket away with his fingers. When he looked at another tree, it transformed into a brilliant beacon of light as well. The awe he felt was something he never experienced before, but he was rooted to the spot like those angelic trees were rooted to the unworthy ground. He could not run outside and touch the leaves, or move his fingers along the rough, beautiful bark. 

His eyes stung all of the sudden, and a tear ran down his face and into the crook of his mouth. He wiped it away and another came. He hadn’t blinked or looked away from the light.

When his eyes closed, he felt immediate relief and when the stinging stopped, they opened again to a world like his own again. The trees were red and purple and they knew something. They stared at him knowingly, almost presumptuously. 

Michael turned around, half-dazed, to Jeremy and Geoff sound asleep. Jeremy was sprawled out on the couch with a hand behind his head, and Geoff was sitting just as he had been, with his head down. His eyes were closed but he didn’t look peaceful. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was turned down, his hands gripped the arms of the chair even in his sleep. Jeremy’s mouth was open and he snored quietly.

A sudden exhaustion overcame Michael, and the aching of his beaten body caught up with him. Weary, he tip-toed to the chair next to where Jeremy slept and sat down. His feet tingled and his back settled as he put his head on his arm, resting it on the side of the chair. There was no particular moment when he fell asleep, but he did remember his last thought.

_ I was wrong about them. _

  
  


Michael woke up to a dark, empty room. He knew he was in the same chair, and when he raised his head his stiff neck prevented him from turning to the left. When his tired eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he noticed extra blankets covering the windows and the door connecting the room to the next was shut.    
He yawned and stretched his arms. His muscles protested, and only when he sat up straight did he notice the intense soreness that radiated throughout his body. His heart beat in a tender chest and he winced when he pushed a finger onto his right collarbone. He pulled the collar of his blood-spattered shirt down and there, underneath the bone, was an ugly red and purple bruise. He supposed he had similar bruises elsewhere on his body.

A sound like glass shattering came from the other room and startled him. He stood up quickly, painfully, and an unidentifiable shout followed. Another sound came again, but louder. More shouting.

Michael approached the door, stepping quietly, but it was silent on the other side when he pressed his ear to the wood. Not another sound.

His hand rested on the cold doorknob and he twisted. Light entered the black room in a burst, throwing the beam across the ground. 

Michael peeked his head in and Geoff was standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands on the fireplace mantle. The stones were no longer hot but covered in ash from placing pots and kettles on top of it for years and years. He stared at the wall and around him were shards of broken bottles. The glass was thick and brown and it winked in the light from the small window.

“Geoff?”

Geoff turned to face the voice, shaved and rested. Well, more rested than before. Dark circles under his eyes seemed to be more of a facial feature than caused by lack of sleep. He looked unhappy, but smiled when Michael further entered the room.

“Sorry about that.”

“What happened?” Michael looked around at the shattered glass on the ground and the wood stained with whatever used to be in those bottles.

“Oh, Gavin’s just being pissy.” Geoff said vaguely, waving his hand.

“It’s because I’m here, I’m guessing.”

Geoff began shaking his head, but thought better and shrugged. “He’ll get used to it.”

Michael wandered over to the table next to the woodstove and sat down in the chair closest to the wall. Geoff picked up the glass and then began rifling around in the cupboards and pulling various jars and bundles of parchment paper out. Not long after he found the matchbox he was looking for, Jeremy stumbled into the room. His eyes were drooping and his hair pointed towards the ceiling in some places.

“Jeremy, you slept almost as long as Michael.” Geoff chided without looking up. He was attempting to start the fire, swearing under his breath when each match fizzled out in his fingers.

“Yeah, well we were walking for three days. Dragging this leg around is not easy, and neither was fighting those ghouls.” Jeremy sounded irritated.

“How long was I asleep?” Michael asked.

“A day or so, it’s midday right now.” Geoff answered and Jeremy slid into the seat in front of Michael. He shrugged and dropped his arms onto the flat top in front of him with a thump.

Geoff unwrapped a loaf of bread from the parchment after the fire began to crackle and began cutting it with a serrated knife. It was quiet except for the sound of the knife sawing through the hard crust. Michael was surprised by the domesticity and the human-like way in which they went about their morning, he never would have guessed that faeries lived in houses or even formed friendships with each other beyond banding together to attack a human village. He liked to think that they were an exception, that other monsters were just as he imagined them as a child; but a sick feeling in his gut told him that that might not be the case. 

Geoff walked over to them with the slices of bread on the paper. “Sorry we don’t have much, Gavin probably didn’t leave the house when we were gone to get food.”

“I’ll eat whatever you give me.” Michael said and Geoff chuckled.

Jeremy took a bite of the admittedly tough, stale bread and wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.” 

Geoff turned around and Jeremy said, “Geoff, I’m going to crack a damn tooth.”

“I’m not your cook. Make something yourself.”

“What am I supposed to do? Fry up some of Ryan’s pet maggots he has?”

Geoff shuddered. “Just eat the bread, you asshole.”

Jeremy sighed and took another forceful bite of bread.

Suddenly, a set of footsteps came down the rickety stairs and Ryan entered the room, dressed and more awake than any of them. He held a crumpled and folded piece of paper loosely in his hand, and he smiled wide. He barely noticed Michael sitting at the table before he began talking excitedly.

“Geoff, I think I have a healing potion. I think I finally got it.”

Jeremy perked up at this, interested, but the look on his face was uncharacteristically stern.

“What?” Geoff was holding cheesecloth and a wooden box, he looked almost comical standing in the center of the room with his mouth hanging open.

Ryan began stumbling over his words, grinning and waving the paper around as he entered the room further. 

“I’ve been researching healing potions— like, proper healing potions, and when we were in— in Easthallow I found a part of an ancient recipe that a human had locked away in some book.”

“Ryan, slow down. What?” Geoff blinked quickly.

Ryan just handed the paper to Geoff, whose eyes scanned it so fast Michael was surprised he was able to take in the information. Ryan continued, “I still have to find some of the ingredients but I think this one might work, finally.”

Geoff was staring at the paper but his eyes weren’t moving anymore. His face fell and he sighed heavily, disappointed.

“Ryan, this isn’t going to work.”

Ryan gesticulated almost frantically, eyes wild. “I know, I know what you’re thinking; but if I just replace your blood with the original’s—”

“Ryan, no. The body is gone. Dead as dicks.” Geoff said monotonously and handed the paper back to Ryan. “Besides, Meg fixed it. I’m perfectly healthy.”

Ryan’s face twisted for a moment, but he didn’t make another sound. He turned on his heel and left the room with the paper held loosely in his right hand, dangling by his leg. 

Jeremy was staring at the table and Michael was afraid to ask what the hell just happened.

“Ryan makes potions.” Geoff said, his voice cutting through the silence, “I’ve been sick and he’s trying to find something that can cure me.”

He said it casually as if mentioning the weather. Michael decided not to ask what the original meant, or whose blood they needed.

“You don’t look very sick.” Michael said, instead. Geoff smiled and poured hot water from a dented copper kettle into three mismatched and chipping teacups.

“I’m not anymore, but none of these fuckers believe me.”

Jeremy laughed coldly and Geoff filled the cheesecloth with dried tea leaves, tied them, and placed them in the cups. He handed the blue-patterned cup to Michael and the white porcelain to Jeremy. After pouring milk into the other, he disappeared into the hallway. 

It was silent other than Michael and Jeremy swallowing, before a loud crash and a thump came from above them. Michael got up with a start but Jeremy just looked sad.

“What was that?” Michael asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Probably Gavin.” Jeremy answered and continued to drink his tea. He grimaced and set the cup down. “This shit is awful.”

“What’s happening up there?”

Jeremy sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. “I don’t know, just sit down. It’s fine.”

Michael reluctantly sat down but didn’t touch the tea again. Geoff reentered the room, looking more tired than before. 

“Uh, Michael — we’re going to go see Meg about those guys who attacked you.” He said distractedly, feeling the stone edge of the basin to his right.

“Will she know anything about them?”

Geoff shrugged. “It’s worth a try. She’s the only person around who might know anything. We’ll leave when the sun goes down, it’s too dangerous to go into Easthallow during the day.” He glanced at Jeremy when he said it, but smiled. “This idiot is your example.”

Jeremy mocked offence and rested his hand on his injured leg. “I’m crippled, don’t bully me.”

“You’re not crippled. You climbed a tree trying to jump off onto a ghoul’s back not even two days ago.”

“And it would have worked if  _ someon _ e lead it the right way.”

“Hey, I was going along with Jack’s plan.”

“Well, Jack’s plan was stupid.”

Michael felt a pang of longing in his chest, for familiarity and safety, something he hadn't felt since Joel killed all those people and he ended up in the woods.

Jeremy and Geoff bickered and Michael zoned out, yearning for comfort that didn’t exist anymore.

  
  


The journey to Easthallow was not nearly as painful or long as the last one was, but it was considerably more dark as Geoff insisted they go at the latest hour of night. He held a flickering lantern in one embellished hand, waving it in front of him as they walked as if to ward off anything that would come near them. The sounds of bugs in the trees above them, singing and chirping like birds but distinctly un-birdlike — serenaded them as they approached the wall protecting the city. It looked more sinister without daylight and the sounds of happy people inside, and Michael could see armed guards standing watch outside. One seemed to be staring straight at them.

“Michael, we have to be very careful now.” Geoff warned gravely and opened the glass window of the lantern and promptly blew the small flame out, plunging them into darkness. “They can’t see us before we want them to, do you understand?” 

“Yes.” Michael said, and peered at the people lining the painstakingly-built wall. They held long swords that looked too heavy to hold and in the torchlight, they looked terrifying. It felt strange to be afraid of royal guards, and it felt even stranger to think that they were guarding the city from people just like Geoff.

“Follow me, don’t make a sound.” Geoff ordered, and began taking light, slow steps out into the open. The ground began to harden and Michael’s heartbeat quickened.

Geoff stopped right before the light could reach them and Michael did the same, barely breathing. His fingers twitched with anticipation but Geoff just bent over, slower still, and picked up an ordinary-looking stick.

He glanced back at Michael as if to ensure that he was still safely behind him, then began walking again. The orange light washed over them and the guards turned at once, pointing their large and glittering weapons at them. Michael thought he would throw up, Geoff looked calm and he felt that terrible distrust in his gut again.

“Who are you?” One of the guards demanded, with a voice like thunder rumbling in the distance. Michael could barely hear through the blood rushing through his ears.

“We’re travellers, we don’t want any trouble.” Geoff said, voice unwavering and clear. He held the stick harmlessly in his hand.

The guard who spoke lowered his sword an inch, then scowled. “Leave this place. We can’t afford to take chances on strangers.”

“I’m no stranger. We don’t want any trouble.” Geoff repeated.

The guards lowered their weapons slowly to their sides and resumed their positions, all except the one stood in front of Geoff. His bald face was weather-beaten and Michael could see the blemishes and scars in the powerful torchlight. His lips were twitching and he stared Geoff in the face before backing away, head ducked.

“Cause no trouble.” He said, but it was strained. Geoff started forward without another word, his worn cloak moving like water behind him. Michael followed doggedly, entranced.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, excited, but Geoff shushed him and stopped in the middle of the cobblestone street. It was empty and, somewhere close, Michael could hear the  _ click clack _ of footsteps pacing near them. The stick in Geoff’s hand was pressed against his thigh and Michael saw it twitch for a moment.

“Hide behind that corner. Go, quick.” Geoff hissed and gave Michael a shove backwards. Michael stumbled but obeyed, slipping between two very small and obviously unvisited shops. He guessed the entrance they came through was an unpopular one. Michael peeked around the corner and Geoff was still standing, very visible, in the middle of the street. He held the stick awkwardly at his side.

The footsteps grew nearer and nearer, until Michael could see the silhouette of a person bearing a weapon as large and strange as the others. He retreated back and listened hard, barely taking in breaths. He had never seen guards like these before. Although, he hadn’t much been out in Easthallow at night.

The sharp footsteps of the guard ceased and Michael felt himself sweating. If he was caught aiding a faerie he would be sentenced to death immediately, or at best, sent to an asylum for the criminally insane, given his reputation.

“Who are you?” A particularly high-pitched voice called, and Michael wondered why a woman would bother being a lowly patrol guard. Women usually occupied higher military ranks or were part of the Royal Core, not standing around in the dark. “Why are you here?” She demanded, voice sharp and intense.

Geoff’s voice was strange, “I’m a traveller—”

“I’m not fucking stupid, don’t try to manipulate me.” She said angrily, and Michael heard her take a few steps forward. He didn’t dare peek around the corner in fear of being caught, she didn’t seem like the type to listen rather than act. “Who the hell are you? I felt you try to control me.” She hissed, closer, and Michael shivered.

“I’m Geoff.” Geoff said quietly, and Michael heard the stick hit the floor. What he was going to do with it — Michael didn’t know. “I’m here to see Meg Turney. I thought you were a human.”

Wind whistling past the roofs and through tightly-wound tree branches made the only noise Michael could hear, and soon the  _ click clack _ of the woman’s shoes could be heard again, approaching his hiding place. Panicked, he began to back up and feel for any crevice or alley to sneak through, but there was nothing but uneven earth and the occasional piece of stray lumber. 

Her silhouette appeared in the entrance like a ghost, all shadows and organic movements; and she walked easily and purposefully towards him. Her face was shrouded even close up, and Michael was pulled by his bicep out of the corner. Her grip was warm and steely, she had no intention of letting him fight or escape her. Michael went along, petrified, and allowed himself to be returned to Geoff’s side. She released him with a flourish of the hand and Michael could make out dark trousers and cuffs under her cloak. He couldn’t concentrate on the seriousness of her words when he was distracted by her glinting and shining sword, curved and powerful at her side. The point was buried several inches into a crack between two cobble stones, and she leant her arm against the hilt.

“I can’t protect you from the other guards, but if you cut straight through the center of the city to Walking Way you will avoid a lot of trouble.” She said to Geoff, voice easier now.

“So should we go through the alleys?” He asked.

“No, they are monitoring those now as well. Ever since that group of humans was attacked, royal guards have been crawling everywhere.” The woman said, and peered over her shoulder. “You should go now, before they hear us.” She said more quietly, and glanced at Michael for a moment. He could see the glint of her eyes through the darkness shrouding her face. “Don’t get caught.” She said finally, and took a step back.

Geoff tugged on Michael’s arm, and they began in the opposite direction. Michael looked back occasionally, but the woman was just pacing back and forth as she was before, peeking into alleys and past windows.

“Who was that?” Michael whispered as they walked, pressed against storefronts and ducking behind walls. 

“She’s a gatekeeper, her name is Mariel I think.” He paused, then looked at Michael with a small grin. “She’s a valkyrie.”

He was about to ask what that meant when he heard another set of footsteps. 

Geoff shoved him down and behind a wall, and he himself crouched down beside the door of the shop and waited until the guard passed by, whistling merrily.

Geoff looked over at Michael, face sturdy and set, and straightened up again. 

“Not much further.” He mouthed, and Michael nodded.

The intricate and crowded layout of the city disoriented Michael but he clung close to Geoff, the conflict of trust strong in his heart but unavoidable, at that time at least.

A square opened up in front of them, filled with empty carts and tables. Among the clutter of unset-up stands and produce carts were even more guards, pacing and listening hard. 

Geoff looked around, searching, but Michael didn’t know why.

“The Way is over there, we just need to get around the fucking guards.” He said.

“You made the guards at the gate do what you wanted, why not these guys?” Michael asked.

“No. Look at them, as soon as they hear a noise they’ll attack. No warning.” Geoff snapped his fingers and looked at the men wandering around the square like insects. “We have to do something else. Magic won’t work here.” 

Michael looked around at the moonlight-covered streets and the glowing brick buildings. The green rooftops were bathed in silver and were so close together that it would be easy to hop from one to the other. Geoff followed his gaze and made a noise of anguish. 

“I’m getting too fuckin’ old for this shit.” He said miserably, but slipped into a cramped, empty alley anyway. Scraps of fabric and pieces of trash gathered in the corners like cold beggars and shifted when Michael and Geoff stepped near them. It was too narrow to be guarded.

“Okay, look. There’s a loose brick here.” Michael whispered and began wiggling the brick in its place. It crumbled slightly as he pulled at it. “If we can get this out, we’ll have a foothold to climb with.”

Geoff nodded and let Michael struggle with the brick, scraping at it with his fingernails and grunting until the wall released it with a grating noise that made the hairs stick up on the back of both of their necks, out of fear and that universally unpleasant noise.

A sound like swords being unsheathed shocked Michael into movement, he immediately dug his foot into the stone pocket and hauled himself up, scratching and scrambling against the bricks. Fingertips bleeding, he made it to the cold roof and looked down, where Geoff was crouching in the shadows. Back arched and legs bent, he looked like an animal of prey.

“Go.” Geoff hissed, and threw the rabbit’s foot up at him. It landed a few feet away on the roof. Michael didn’t think twice. He grabbed the foot and ran across the roof, shoes clinking against the metal, and hopped across a small gap to the next, higher parapet. As he ran, he tried to remember where the Way was, and stopped on the sloped roof of some palm-reader’s shop. 

He heard guards yelling and running in the distance and, somewhere, he felt bad about leaving Geoff behind. 

Easthallow was considerably larger than Rochdale, and the buildings were taller. Michael looked down, cautiously, and saw empty cobblestone streets. Lights were off in the buildings and all was silent. It was almost ghostly, the way the trash curled in the corners and glowed like stars.

He stood up again and took a step. The hard underside of his shoes slapped against the metal and he flinched at the noise. 

Carefully, he removed his shoes and carried them as he padded across the rooftop and onto the next. He came across misplaced sticks and rocks littering the edge of the flat tops, and on the sloped planes there were dead leaves stuck to the surface after many winters.

A chasm, larger than the others, appeared before him and he stared into the black depths. He could just see the pale cobble underneath the blanket of shadow, as well as a figure crouched against the wall. Their head was down and tattered white robes stained gray and other indistinguishable colors draped across their shoulders. They weren’t moving.

Michael found a balcony built into the side of the building, in front of a window lacking glass. A thin curtain flapped loosely in the small breeze.

He held his breath and hung down, calculating the best and most soundless way he could jump down onto it. He needed to do it quickly, his body was still incredibly sore from the beating Adam gave him, and his arms were straining to hold his weight. He kicked his leg out until it caught on the top of the weak wooden railing, and slid down until his leg was perpendicular with the rest of his body. With a sincere prayer to God, he let go.

His foot hit the floor with a dull thump and he quickly hoisted his other leg off the rail. His sore muscles ached but he ignored it.

A shuffling and quick breathing came from behind the curtain, and Michael hopped over the side of the stoop and landed on his feet several yards below. The impact jarred his knees but he didn’t have time to dwell on the discomfort, instead he slipped into the obscurity beneath the outcropping. He heard the curtains being moved, the coarse fabric brushing against itself, and then quick steps followed by a sharp slap.

“What the hell are you doing?” A woman’s voice scolded, quietly. A child’s shocked gasp reached Michael’s ears. “What if there was a creature standing  _ right there _ ?” The woman said, and the child started crying. The sobs were muffled, suddenly, and the woman began to shush and coo.

Michael pressed himself against the wall and edged over until he could see the person slumped on the ground in the alley. It was a man, long hair covered his face but it hung in tendrils that were unwashed and unmoving. No breath moved through his lungs, he sat completely still. 

As soon as Michael neared the body, he could smell the pungent odor of death and something else he couldn’t place. Some kind of herb.

Gagging, he kept as far away from the corpse as possible and walked until there was no light.

He couldn’t tell if his eyes were opened or closed, but a dull light shone through his eyelids suddenly and he opened his numb eyes to the dusky, bland landscape of Easthallow. Well, not  _ really _ Easthallow. 

It was as quiet, if not quieter. Without Geoff or any idea what he was doing, he felt unsafe and exposed. He put his shoes back on and walked.

The buildings were thin and harrowing, crawling towards the sky with gray brick upon gray brick. Trees like big, meaty hands held fistfuls of dry leaves and the dirt was pale yellow like sulfur. 

Michael, acutely distressed, saw a flash of blue in the corner of his eye.

He wheeled around and before him was the grand wooden sign, the word  _ Library _ carved into the polished surface and burned, carbon painting the letters black. No blue in sight, but it quickly slipped from his mind.

The same old, peeling building stood behind the sign and he approached it. The lace curtains were drawn and another blockade was behind that, even. He felt the doorknob with his hand and it mimicked his body temperature, it didn’t feel like he was touching anything. 

It moved without him, turning and clicking as the door creaked open. 

Inside was dark, but he could make out a trace of golden light shining from between book covers, on the other side of the shelf.

As quietly as he entered, Michael closed the door with a soft click and walked in a straight line, feeling with his feet the ground in front of him. The bookshelves were tall, black shapes surrounding him but didn’t make him uneasy as the buildings outside had. They were humble as they stood, carrying old and new and falling-apart books in their arms like children.

The flickering light was coming from a candle stick sitting alone on the ground, halfway burnt, in an ornate candle holder. He picked it up and the wax sloshed in the silver dish, purple and unscented. 

“Hello?” A light voice said, and Michael dropped the candle. It fell with a sound of clinking metal and the fizzing of the flame being put out by its own wax, and Michael swore.

“Michael?” The voice said.

“Meg?”

Meg laughed and he heard her pick up the metal holder.

“You could have knocked, you know.” She said teasingly, and her footsteps retreated. He stood there, dried wax on his fingertips, until she returned with the candle relit. She wore a nightdress and her hair was damp, hanging around her shoulder.

“Sorry about the mess.” Michael apologized, referring to the puddle of purple wax sitting on top of the floorboards. 

“Oh, it’s fine. It’ll scrape right off when it dries.” She said, then frowned. “Why are you here so late? Are you alone?”

Michael rubbed his neck. “Oh, uh — Geoff was with me, but he got held up.”

“Held up?”

Michael grew more anxious, both about leaving Geoff behind and talking to Meg alone. He didn’t know who —  _ what  _ she was. “He told me to run, he should be here soon.”

Meg’s face relaxed and she even laughed. The candlestick was sweating, fibres and dust from the ground stuck to the shiny exterior and travelled with the melting wax as it dripped, once again, down into the catch.

“Were the guards giving you a hard time?” She asked, and beckoned Michael to follow her. He did, and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Geoff can handle them.” She said. After a moment she added, “Well, he can take care of it. He won’t  _ kill _ them.” 

Michael released a breathy laugh that sounded more hysterical than he intended.

Meg glanced back at him but kept walking until they reached a door in the back near some shorter, more manageable bookshelves. On top of them sat various knick-knacks like a small gnome bookstop, a hand-blown jar filled with pebbles, and a pot with a healthy-looking vine pouring over the lip that crawled towards the ground.

Behind the door was a small living space; an unmade bed in the corner and a basin in the other. The jug was half-empty and condensation beaded on the edge.

Meg began to dig around in a box at the foot of the bed, and it sounded like a bunch of glass knocking against each other too hard. She emerged with a bottle that was stuffed with wiry, yellow flowers. They seemed to be alive and growing.

“Can I fix up your face?” She asked, tapping her nails against the glass in her hand.

“What is that?” He asked.

“Witch hazel.” She said, and opened the stop. They were just flowers.

“They help with pain.” She explained, “You look a little beat up.”

Michael touched his face and nodded.

She led him from the room to a table in front of a desk piled high with old, worn books. He sat down in the chair and it groaned, she pulled another up and sat in front of him.

She pulled a slightly crushed flower from its home and rolled the petals between her fingers until, when she dropped the used plant to the table, her fingers were stained yellow. Before she could touch his skin, Michael moved his head to the side.

“This won’t do what you did to Gavin, right?”

She smiled again, flashing her teeth.

“No, that was because the wound was diseased. Vampires leave nasty viruses when they catch you like that.” She began to pat where he assumed there were cuts, because it stung in an almost pleasant way. He felt the scabs softening and his flesh absorbed the witch hazel. “Geoff can’t stand this stuff.” She commented, taking another few petals in her hand. “He says it smells like piss.”

Michael thought it smelled very medicinal, like pure ethanol. He told her that and she nodded.

“It’s not regular witch hazel, it was enchanted to be more pungent and more effective than the regular stuff.” She smiled. “Maybe that’s why it smells so much.” 

They didn’t speak for a few moments while she administered the yellow juice to his cuts, but he watched her and tried to figure out what she was. He didn’t know how to distinguish humans from the other things he had seen, and that frightened him still. He thought about asking her but every time he felt the words building up behind his lips, he faltered.

She finished, and restopped the bottle. She rubbed her fingers together and finally clasped her hands in her lap and leant forward.

“So, do you know why you’re here this time?”

Michael chuckled, “Yeah, I’ve only been back since yesterday. Well, a few days ago. I was kinda comatose.”

Meg nodded and opened her mouth, but the door opened quietly and she stood up.

“Meg?” A voice, Geoff’s, called. 

“Over here!” She replied, and sat back down. Michael breathed easier, relieved. He would have felt worse than shit if Geoff got himself killed.

Geoff sat down, heavy, in the chair next to Michael and sighed. He looked as he did before, but his cloak was missing.

“Fuckin’ guards think they’re tough shit.”

“Hello to you too.” Meg teased and smoothed her nightdress on her lap.

“Oh, hey.” He said, and cracked his knuckles. “How much has he told you?” Geoff pointed a thumb in Michael’s direction.

“Nothing, so far. I was just fixing his face.” She said, glaring at Geoff. “Something  _ you _ should have done.”

“It wasn’t a vampire, I checked.” Geoff defended. “Also, he’s not a child.”

“I know, it’s just a possibility.” She said.

“They were humans, they just broke into my house.” Michael said.

“Is that what you’re here for?” Meg’s eyebrows came together. “I mean, not to say it’s not terrible that they broke in, but… Geoff. Humans?”

“He said they mentioned Astuk. How would a human know about that?” Geoff said, rubbing his hands together under the table.

Meg’s mouth twisted and she tapped her fingers on the table.  _ Tap, tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap, tap. _

“Maybe they read about it.”

“No, all literature about Astuk was destroyed when King Gus was impeached.” Geoff said.

“Also,” Michael cut in, “he said he didn’t want to go  _ back _ there. If it was really destroyed, how could he have been there before?”

Meg’s reaction was much like Geoff’s when Michael told him; her eyes were wide but she looked more confused than shocked.

“Wait, that’s impossible.” She said.

“Either this guy is insane or, somehow, Astuk is back up and running.” Geoff said, grimly. “If it is, this may be bad.”

Meg laughed bitterly.  _ “Bad.” _

Michael chewed on the inside of his lip and tasted blood. He didn’t know what happened in Astuk, or what it being resurrected meant; but the way Geoff and Meg were looking at each other proved that it meant nothing good.


	5. Five

Michael walked around the library, passing through drafts and areas of humidity that came from nowhere. He left Meg and Geoff to talk, they began mentioning people and places and times he didn’t have any knowledge of, and he felt dumber and more in the dark as the minutes wore on. So, he excused himself and resigned to wandering around the maze of shelves, some taller than him and some that were really just long, rickety-old dinner tables stacked high with books. 

He didn’t know what war Geoff was talking about, but he hoped there would be something about it in one of the books in this library. 

Michael walked up and down the thin isles, plucking random books from their spots and flipping through the yellowing, and sometimes oily pages — just looking for any information about a war or The War. It sounded like a big event, he was surprised he had never heard of it even if he only completed the first, very early stages of his education before being sentenced to work on his father’s farm. Although, most people living in his old town couldn’t even read, so maybe the idea wasn’t so far-fetched. 

The search turned out to be fruitless. The books he did pick up were either in strange languages or said nothing about a war in any capacity. He looked for the name King Gus and anything else; faeries, humans, demons, anything.

Michael, eventually, found his way back at Geoff’s side. He and Meg were discussing the idea of asking around about the men who Michael encountered. It wasn’t the right time to ask about the war, so he didn’t.

“I mean, we only have first names. Also, if we _were_ to ask anyone — they’re just humans. No offence, but no fae I know of keeps track of the locals.” Geoff said.

“Yeah, but if these guys work in a group, someone might know their names collectively.” Meg argued. She had scooted her chair closer to the table, pinning her arms in her lap as she leant forward to speak.

“Did you tell her about the teeth?” Michael asked, hating to cut in but feeling that it was important.

Geoff looked confused, he tilted his head but Meg perked up, almost standing.

“Teeth?”

“Yeah, they said they needed someone’s teeth or else they would be sent to Astuk.”

Meg made a noise in her throat and gestured at Geoff. 

“What the fuck, Geoff, that’s the important shit I need to hear.”

Geoff threw his hands up, bewildered, and swung his head from Meg to Michael.

“He didn’t tell me about any goddamn teeth!”

“I did!” Michael shouted, and Meg pushed her chair out behind her and disappeared behind a bookshelf. Geoff chewed on his thumb, a perplexed look on his face, until Meg returned with a book that she slammed on the table. The pages, when she flipped through them, were creased and dog-eared. She stopped in the middle of the book and slid it towards Geoff. 

“Read it, third paragraph down.”

Michael moved to Geoff’s side easily, leaning over his shoulder to squint at the tiny characters on the olive-toned page.

_And inside the mouth of the Antichrist, are bones that replenish the body and mind of the Daemon. The_ servos _of the Daemon may collect the bones and keep them until a worthy vessel presents itself, commonly a creature of God to be disgraced by the possession. The bones are inserted into the vessel and, charmed, the body will be reanimated._

Michael wasn’t able to read the rest before Geoff slammed the book shut. 

“Who are they trying to revive? This makes no sense, how could they _know_ that?” Geoff said, fisting his hair. 

“Michael, are you sure you don’t have any teeth?” Meg asked, talking over a mumbling Geoff.

“Why the fuck would I have teeth lying around?” Michael asked, then, “I’ve never seen these guys in my life, and I’ve never had any teeth that aren’t in my mouth.”

“Why would they think you had them, though?”

Michael threw his hands up. “How should I know? They might just be fucking insane, ever thought of that?”

Meg, comparatively calm, answered, “I don’t think they’re insane. I also don’t think they’re human.”

“What are they, then?”

Meg hesitated. “I’m not sure, _servos_ can be anything, but demons would make the most sense.”

“No, they were definitely — I mean, they looked human. They _were_ human, demons can’t just walk around in the open, right?” Michael asked.

“They look the same.” Geoff said, quietly, to the table. “Meg is right, they’re probably demons.”

Thank god no one spoke after that, a headache was forming in the back of Michael’s skull from all the information he had absorbed in the past couple days. Geoff was staring at his hands and Meg was staring at Geoff and Michael was tired.

From the tense, thoughtful silence came Geoff’s voice, “I guess I’ll ask around, I _think_ I might know someone who will have any idea of what the fuck is going on.”

“Well, there’s not much you can do until daylight.” Meg said.

Geoff sighed, cracked his back, and stretched out his hands. “You’re right. Still got those chairs?”

Meg huffed and smiled fondly. “Keep ‘em just for you.”

“ _Just for you_ my ass. They’re probably covered in books.”

“Maybe.”

Geoff chuckled and stood up. Michael felt too tired, suddenly, to follow. Neither of them asked him to, which he was grateful for, but Geoff slipped away and Meg stayed sitting with an empty chair between them.

“How’s your face feeling?” She asked lightly, not looking at him. She sounded distracted, she stared at a bookshelf filled entirely with books with green or greenish spines.

“It’s fine. Hey, look, thanks for the help.” He said, and she tore her no doubt tired gaze away from the books.

“It’s no problem, I have something to research now that doesn’t have to do with medicine.”

“Why medicine?” Michael asked.

“Oh, I had a doctor come in a while ago and he dropped off all these medical journals and documents, I think he was cleaning something out because this shit was _old_. But, it was something to do, so I’ve been reading them. Very bland stuff.” She yawned. “Something about a fever that infected humans and fae during the war, but demons were immune to it.”

“Uh, the war—” Michael was cut off by a scraping sound from the other side of the bookshelf to his left that made him jump nearly out of his seat. Meg laughed.

“It’s just Geoff, he’s moving the chairs away from the door.”

“Oh, yeah.” Michael said, embarrassed. He hoped he would stop being so damn jumpy when these guys, _servos_ , whatever, were dealt with and he could go home.

“What were you saying? About the war?” Meg said.

“Oh, uh. Well, I never got to really… go to school when I was younger, and I never learned about the war. My parents didn’t go to school either and the village I lived in was kinda closed-off, so no one ever talked about it.”

“So you don’t know what happened?”

Michael shook his head.

“So everything we’ve been talking about must sound like gibberish, huh?” She smiled and dragged the book over to her. It was about as thick as Michael’s arm, and some of the pages stuck out of the binding. On the cover was a green crest, faded and almost disappearing completely. It depicted a human face, mouth open wide, and from its mouth came what seemed to be a snake with three separate heads. Around the crest was an intricate red border that was also barely there. Meg spoke again, “This book has an excerpt from a journal of a faerie who was a prisoner in Astuk during the final years of the war. He wrote down everything he could remember, the major points anyway, because spells were cast on the prisoners to make them forget. I mean, forget; they were basically made into zombies.” Meg tapped the book with her hand. “I know Geoff has some books on it somewhere, so what isn’t explained in this one, you can find somewhere else.” 

She pushed it towards Michael and he ran a hand down its tough spine.

“How long ago was the war?”

“About two hundred years, but there was still a lot of fighting even after the war was officially over.”

Michael nodded slowly and Meg stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

“You know, I’m glad you never learned about this before you met Geoff.”

“Why?”

“The human schools aren’t very impartial.” She paused, “Well, I’m going to go to sleep. Happy reading.” She said, and slipped away. Michael was left with that big, heavy book and five empty chairs surrounding him.

He flipped to the title page, which was faded as if it was left, opened, sitting in the sun for too long. The book was so massive, he didn’t know where to start looking for the part Meg was talking about. He wished he asked her before she left.

He flipped to the next page and a wall of text startled him for a moment. The next page was the same, and so was the one after that. No indentations, small, blurry font; it was a nightmare. He skimmed as best as he could for about ten pages before a headache thrummed behind his eyes and he had to look at the shiny surface of the table.

A noise distracted him, but not one that came from anywhere in particular. He looked around but nothing was out of place. It came again, louder, and it sent a chill up his spine. It was like a low, splintered hiss that dragged through his ear as if it was a tangible thing; a worm, a snake, or a piece of thread.

He rubbed his ears but the sound of static remained. He looked to his left and saw an indication of a figure that he couldn’t describe. He could see it but he couldn’t say what it looked like. Michael was frozen, by horror or a spell, he couldn’t tell; as the figure reached over and slowly, as if underwater, turned to page four hundred and seventy-nine.

The sound and the figure vanished all at once, and so did the memory. 

Michael looked down and the book was opened to page four hundred and seventy-nine. He must have just pulled it open to a random page to see if it got any more painful to read. It was, but he looked and the entirety of the page was in italics. It read:

An excerpt from the journal of Edward Mott

_It has been twenty-five years since the first attack of Stawford. This is a series of events that I, and other contributors, have witnessed and ones we must relay in order to remember._

_The conflict arose between an order of demons and a settlement of humans, the latter were slaughtered in cold blood and the demons took control of the land. The humans are a God-fearing race, and are helpless in the face of magic and force. They are organized in such a way; in large, stable settlements — that they are easily surrounded and captured. The first human city attacked, since named Stawford, was wiped completely of human life. A massacre in the open city square was the largest so far, and no help was allowed in from their officials. Over two hundred thousand humans were slaughtered in a few days time, and with no outside help the demons took control of the important human city._

_Soon after, towns and cities surrounding Stawford met the same fate and only then did King Gustavo Sorola enlist the help of a large, powerful organization of fae. They occupied the northern end of Stawford and two smaller towns on the outskirts, and a six month-long standoff ensued until the demons feigned retreat. The fae moved forward but were attacked, viciously and with more vigor than was expected by the dying demon race. They were pushed back again and it was apparent that the demons were stronger than they had ever been._

_The organization of fae called upon every other creature of magic in the vicinity, but the only way to form another sizable army was with force. Even trolls and spriggans were drafted, mostly catching stray demon troops lost in flatlands and marshes. Their army was unofficially named the_ Salvatores _, or the Saviors; a title coined by one of the most prominent generals at the time. A struggle for power lasted several years, and within that time the entirety of King Sorola’s kingdom was split in half; between the Saviors and the demons. Humans became collateral damage in what became a war between dark and light magic. The only place not occupied by foreign forces was King Sorola’s royal city, Gala, which the humans defended fiercely. Their tactics in battle were unexpectedly refined and practiced, though on a small scale. From what I have been told, their army is split into offensive and defensive troops, and the defense circled the city in perpetuum with the offensive on the outside, also in constant march, striking when they felt threatened by either enemy or ally forces. There were problems with this strategy — first, thousands of humans died during duty from exhaustion and weather-related illnesses; second, when the Saviors were attacked it caused a rift between the defenders and the defended. The humans felt threatened by any creature of magic, and began to resent not only the demons, but the fae as a helping hand as well. To the humans, the Saviors were not the saviors, but monsters just like the demons._

_On the ninth year of war, word was sent from King Michael Burns of the North that his kingdom has fallen, corrupted by magic. Around this time, as well, King Sorola began to order the hangings of suspected traitors not only in his court, but within his kingdom. Men of medicine and healing were killed, as well as women suspected of witchcraft. When the humans from King Burns’ kingdom began to immigrate, most were murdered upon entry. Those able-bodied and deemed loyal were drafted to the royal army, those circling the city, often called the Death March. King Burns disappeared, supposedly captured by the enemy, on the outskirts of Gala._

_Outside the guarded walls of Gala, the demons and the fae continued to wage the largest and most destructive war to date, destroying everything in their paths. It was so expansive that it not only encompassed Kings Sorola and Burns’ kingdoms, but other larger, more powerful kingdoms on the other side of the map. Soon, troops from King Matt Hullum of the West began to march and captured the southern edge of Stawford, which marked a turning point of the war in favor of the humans. With help from King Hullum, King Sorola’s troops regained the city of Cullfield, a place of industry. It was conveniently placed between a demon-controlled Stawford and Gala, giving the humans a vantage point._

_However, the fae were still unaware of the extent of which the humans were hostile towards them, and the tension broke after a battle on the outskirts of demon territory. The fae were pushed back into Cullfield after the loss, and more demon troops swelled behind them. The humans sought freedom from the demons as well as the fae, and began attacking troops stationed at the walls of Cullfield. The fae retreated into the mountains lining the sea, unequipped for an attack from both sides. The humans successfully defended Cullfield, and the human empire was slightly stronger since Kings Sorola and Hullum’s unity. In any case, the victory boosted the morale of the surviving humans in Gala and Cullfield._

_The demons, with a multitude of large cities at their disposal, created their own empire, named Corvus. Until the fifteenth year of war, any human or fae prisoners of the demons were killed almost immediately, or otherwise never returned_ alive _. But they were always returned, as if either the demons respected the dead, or they had no use for the bodies. However, on the fifteenth year, more and more humans went missing without having their bodies be sent back. It was discovered that the demons were operating a camp where nothing escaped alive. It was named Astuk, and the creation of this camp led to a severe uptick in human and fae captures, to the point where at some point, the rations that had previously been scarce were plentiful. Even demons, who committed crimes against their own race through treason or the like, were committed to the camp._

_In the mountains, the Saviors controlled the highlands but without proper structure, their army was growing to be ineffective at best. Within the ranks, disputes would break out between races that would often result in entire troops killing each other, and lack of common fighting techniques lead to incoordination during battle. This combined with the strained relationship with the humans lead to an almost complete drop from battle, leaving the humans to fend for themselves against a rapidly growing demonic plague._

_The demons began enlisting the help of a coven of witches, ones who controlled the forests of the world that humans would not enter because they were believed to be cursed. The witches granted the demons access to these forests, giving them an enormous advantage in battle. Humans were, once again, pushed back into Gala and those unfortunate enough to be left behind were killed or sent to Astuk, which grew exponentially in these years of war. In fact, Astuk became overcrowded and two more camps were created: Izel and Iuit. Both were freed later and subsequently destroyed._

_A period of two years passed when no fighting occurred, only small local disputes that were contained and brushed over. Astuk, Iuit and Izel remained up and running, each side’s troops were still stationed, but there was quiet. Since the demon’s invasion of Stawford and Cullfield and their occupation of the forests, the humans were at a loss of what to do. They were pinned with their backs to the woods, with few men and fewer resources. The fae remained in the mountains, and King_ _of the South hadn’t made a single move to help or defend the entire time. In fact, he cut off communication with each of the other kingdoms as soon as disputes began to break out, nearly seventeen years prior. It was discovered that the Southern kingdom had fallen before any of the others. This stalemate allowed Corvus to not only grow stronger, but gain more and more land as the months went by. The human’s barter economy was damaged beyond repair, and illness peaked since the population of nearly two kingdoms, Sorola and Burns’, were forced into the small walls of Gala. Other human civilizations across the map were fighting similar, if not the same, war and most likely assumed the four kingdoms were destroyed completely._

_What broke the stalemate was a murder on the edge of the border between demon-controlled Cullfield and Gala. An innocent woman who belonged to King Sorola’s court was slain by a demon in her house, as well as her newborn child, in cold blood. This caused a violent uprising, and King Sorola ordered his troops to march. King Hullum, on the other hand, was hesitant to lose more men in what he thought was a hopeless situation. Driven nearly mad, King Sorola forced King Hullum’s hand by unknown means, and even led the troops himself. Miraculously, the humans once again took control of Cullfield and some villages outside Stawford._

_A sort of civil war raged in the mountains, and even that spilled over into demon territory and what happened is still unclear, but the fae righted themselves and began fighting again, this time more as a single unit rather than several, forced together…_

The italics ended there, and after that was some analysis of the excerpt that Michael couldn’t bring himself to read. Information was swimming through his head like fish in a pond, he felt almost dizzy as he closed the book. He knew it wasn’t the entire story, but at least he didn’t feel so clueless anymore.

When he stood, the sound of the chair scraping on the floor made him recoil. He hadn’t realized, but the few candles that Meg had lit were burnt low to the wick, and began to flicker dark. Michael tiptoed around the library, looking for Geoff and trying not to let fear creep up on him again. 

He found Geoff asleep in a wide rocking chair, covered by a hand-woven checkered blanket. Next to him was another identical chair with a similar woven blanket, that when he unfolded was red and blue striped. The white paint was chipping off of both chairs, and when Michael sat down he could see a carved signature on the right armrest. _S. Fare_ , it read. 

Michael settled in, and when he finally drifted to sleep, his dreams were filled with war-torn landscapes, creatures with skin that glowed like embers, and squabbling kings, desperate to save their people.

  
  


It was night when Gavin awoke, sitting in a chair in front of a window. He felt the armrests and they were solid. The windowsill was solid. He stomped his foot on the ground: solid as well.

He pushed the chair out from under him and it toppled over. The air smelled muddy, like heat and spilled tea soaked into the floorboards. As he walked over the stained spot, the wood bent and sighed under his shoes. He felt like he was dreaming as he opened the door to a cooler, empty hallway. He knew the hallway well. The paint peeled away from the walls near the ceiling and the flowers were faded; the old reds and blues and purples mixed until they were all nearly the same shade. A few paintings adorned the walls near the stairs, ones he remembered Geoff telling him an old friend of his did. They were darkly lit and depicted mostly cups and vases and various fruits, but one was a portrait of a general adorned with ribbons and an expensive coat.

Gavin moved forward and walked down the stairs, it got colder and colder as he neared the sitting room. The blankets were torn from their place hanging in front of the windows and books propped the glass open, letting a cold, sweet-smelling wind blow the papers sitting on the center table in their binds. He opened the door with a long creak and stepped out onto the sagging porch. He hadn’t been outside in forever, it seemed. Moonlight lit up the overgrown land before the trees and yellow flowers peeked above the tall blades, it all moved with each gust of wind. He stepped further out from the confines of the house and he felt uneven earth under his soles.

“You done moping?” 

The voice came from above and when he looked up, Jeremy sat on the lower segment of roof, legs dangling over the edge.

“I wasn’t moping.”

“What would you call that, then? A tantrum?”

Gavin felt a small bubble of laughter rise in his throat but he shoved it down, in favor of a scowl that he didn’t really believe. Jeremy didn’t seem to believe it either.

“Why are you up there?” Gavin asked, running a hand up and down his neck to feel the skin there.

“It’s too quiet in there. Geoff and Jack are gone and Ryan is still working on that healing potion.”

Gavin felt like someone slapped him. Ryan working on a potion after all this time didn’t bode well for anyone. 

“Does he really think we haven’t tried everything?”

“I guess.” Jeremy said.

Gavin looked around. A cool breeze tickled his arm and he smelled the scent of wet leaves rotting under the new layer. He hadn’t noticed the trees getting barer.

“What should we do?” Gavin didn’t know what else to say, and it seemed appropriate.

“I don’t know, but things will calm down by themselves. They always do. I’m not meddling.”

The statement left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Thinking of Ryan trapped alone in his lab or Geoff getting bad again made his heart constrict in his chest. He felt terrible suddenly for throwing things and screaming at Geoff the day before.

“Gavin?” Jeremy’s voice brought him back. He was peering down at him, not unkindly or with concern, just looking at him. He leant back when Gavin took notice and said, “Come up here.”

“Why?”

“It’s kinda hard to have a conversation with someone from the roof, don’t you think? I’d be surprised if we haven’t woken anything up.” Jeremy’s mouth moved up fractionally. 

Gavin looked around, “How did you get up there, anyway? With your…” He looked at Jeremy’s leg, dangling uselessly off the side of the roof, covered by trousers. A great shiver moved up his spine.

“With difficulty.” He said, and gestured to a wooden ladder propped against the side of the house. Gavin could see the top of it poking out from the holly bushes that lined the porch.

He took a step but hesitated, peering over his shoulder at the darkness behind the border of trees. Jeremy didn’t miss the movement.

“There shouldn’t be anything out tonight.” He said softly.

Gavin didn’t reply, instead he moved swiftly towards the ladder and scaled it. His shoes slipped a few times on the rungs but he made it to the top and crouched on the steep surface. He stood on nervous legs and edged over to where Jeremy sat, back facing him.

When he sat down, he noticed a breeze coming from the North, and the bright stars clustered in the sky. It felt like he hadn’t seen them since he was a child. He remembered lying awake at night, surrounded by his sleeping family, tired from helping his father hunt. He would watch the lights in the sky blink and fade and appear again like eyes.

It was similarly quiet, though instead of the deep breathing of his family he heard Jeremy’s foot tapping the side of the house every so often. Chills ran up his arm but he didn’t mind them.

“Why is Geoff helping him?” Gavin asked the question that had been running through his head for the past couple days, one that caused hot anger to fill his body. Now, he just felt tired.

“Michael?” Jeremy asked, and Gavin nodded.

He didn’t reply right away, but first stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles. “Because he needs help.” He paused. “Geoff helps everyone.”

“His house got broken into. It happens all the time, and they have their own guard.” Gavin said bitterly.

“You know, he’s not like them. The humans who attacked us.” Jeremy said. “He’s been my friend since I started watching Joel.”

“And what did he do when he found out you were a faerie?” Gavin snapped. It was an unnecessary and petty thing to say but he continued to look upwards to avoid Jeremy’s face. Instead of silence or an annoyed retort, he received a chuckle.

“He was scared and angry. Just like you’re scared and angry. And I know you have reasons to hate humans, but Michael isn’t like them. Geoff sees that, that’s why he’s helping.”

Gavin had no counter. He felt bitter as he watched the sky.

“Plus, you know how Geoff loves humans.”

Gavin scoffed. “I don’t understand _why_. They’re animals.”

“So are we.”

“You’re always taking his side.” Gavin huffed, and brought his knees up to his chin.

Jeremy sighed, “I’m not taking anyone’s side, you’re just being stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid, I just don’t get why—”

Jeremy cut him off, “He just wants to help. I do too, I think if you give Michael a shot you two would get along.”

“Fat chance.”

Jeremy chuckled and kicked his good foot out. “You’re both assholes, you have that in common.”

Gavin pushed him lightly and they were quiet for a moment.

Jeremy moved his hand to rest on top of Gavin’s. The touch was familiar and it was overwhelming, after not seeing him for two months. He felt touch-starved as he leant closer, knocking their shoulders together. Jeremy was warm and smelled of dust and the sweet nighttime air. 

“Coming around now, I see.” Jeremy said.

“You’re a prick.” Gavin replied.

It was morning before they fell asleep, hand-in-hand on the rooftop.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really gettin there with this story! I'm very happy I decided to continue writing this, I truly don't think I would have ever been able to stop thinking about it and wondering if I just let it rot in my google drive. Enjoy!

Every single leaf and low-hanging branch in the forest was damp as Michael and Geoff walked, and Michael shivered as the water that had been brushed onto his shoulders and arms began to sink through his clothes.

“It didn’t even fucking rain.” He muttered, and Geoff made an annoyed noise of assent.

“Dew is bullshit. It doesn’t even do anything.” He paused, and grinned. “It doesn't  _ dew _ anything.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael couldn’t control the bark of a laugh that escaped him.

“What did I  _ dew _ ?” Geoff continued, and Michael groaned.

“You’re terrible.”

“Not as terrible as those fuckin’ things.” He pointed down at the ground, but Michael didn’t see anything. He stopped and spun around, looking for what Geoff pointed at.

“What? What is it?”

Geoff grinned, but looked away suddenly. Michael stared at a spot on the ground that looked darker, and nearly shit his pants at the sight of a disgusting, God-awful spider the size of his head moving slowly but surely on its long, furry legs. 

Michael shouted in surprise and threw himself forward, over the head of the abomination, and ran a safe enough distance away. Well, he thought it was safe.

He took a steadying step back, and his blood ran cold when a terrible crunch followed, and he looked down to see his foot in the center of a surprisingly meaty, bleeding red pile with eight long legs sticking out of it. 

Geoff was nearly on the ground, laughing and whooping, wiping tears from his eyes. “The… Michael— there’s a—” He couldn’t even finish a sentence before another fit of laughter overtook him and he was doubled over again.

When the fear passed, as it does, Michael stepped away from the mess and shook his foot off. His already worn down leather shoe was stained and the sole was soggy, and he felt wetness between his toes. Before he let himself become grossed out, he decided pettiness and revenge took pertinence. 

So, while Geoff was busy catching his breath and wiping the tears from his eyes, Michael stooped down and tried not to think about what he was scooping into his hand like a snowball. He took a few steps towards Geoff and when he looked up, Michael lobbed the handful of warm, stringy spider flesh at him.

Geoff shrieked and stumbled back, but not quickly enough. The red lump of spider hit him in the chest and rolled grossly, sticky, down the front of his shirt and onto the ground between his feet. He let out an anguished shout and skittered away like a bug from a bright light. He stared up at Michael with a look that could only be described as betrayal, and it was Michael’s turn to have a laughing fit. It felt right, like everything wasn’t too bad while he was standing in the middle of a dark, wet forest with a faerie and spider blood all over his hands, laughing his ass off.

“You okay there, Geoff?” Michael asked between breaths.

Geoff looked thoroughly defeated when he responded, “Fuck you.” There was no heat behind the remark, and Michael continued to laugh.

For the rest of the walk, Geoff made various noises of disgust and frustration as he tried to walk in a way that prevented his soaked-through shirt from touching and sticking to his skin. Michael, then, advised him to “Stop being a pussy, dude.” Geoff did not, however, stop whining and moaning.

When the house loomed ahead of them, a dark, crooked landmark, Michael asked, “How do you guys not get found like, all the time?”

Geoff, pulling at the hem of his shirt, said, “You have to let the forest guide you. If you don’t, you can’t see it.”

“That wasn’t just some bullshit Gavin made up?” Michael asked.

“You must have done it, if you found the house by yourself.” 

Michael thought back, and remembered the landscape around him disappearing for a brief moment.  _ That must have been the forest reconstructing itself. _

Geoff continued, “You’ll get used to it.”

The sentence was meant as a reassurance, but it weighed on Michael’s mind heavily. Geoff said it as if he would stay there, in the woods. Michael associated the monstrous trees and thick darkness with an evil magic, still, and without any people — any  _ humans _ — he felt terribly isolated. The good humor left him and unease returned, twisting his stomach like a wet towel.

As they approached the house, Michael could see someone outside tending to the plants decorating the deck. Upon a closer inspection, Michael realized it was Ryan, carrying an army of tiny vials. Some were stained yellow and brown and some were strangely marbled, as if the glass was melted down from various shards and formed haphazardly into a tube.

They neared and Ryan took notice, the perverse excitement that Michael last saw gone. He nodded and smiled in greeting, but a furrow in his brow indicated that he was concentrating. He returned his attention to a particularly small shrub in a blue pot and plucked a sprig from its center.

Inside, the smell of bread and herbs permeated the air and Michael’s stomach ached accordingly.

“Wow. They actually did shit while I was gone!” Geoff said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Not two seconds later came a crash from the kitchen, followed by strange squawking sound.

“I told you, you can’t juggle.” Jeremy’s laugh sounded through the house.

“Can’t leave the fuckers alone for a minute.”

Michael tried to wipe off what was left of the mud and blood from his shoes and followed Geoff through the house. The smell of food grew stronger and Michael felt like a forager with the way he was drawn to it. Inside the kitchen, Gavin was stooped over, collecting shards of glass off the floor while Jeremy sat on the counter, absently spinning a large dried peach pit on his finger. When they entered the room, Gavin stood straight up as if to salute, while Jeremy simply swiveled around slowly so he could face them.

“Hey, Bossman.” Jeremy said, then leaned over to peek over Geoff’s shoulder. “Hey, Jones.”

“When have you ever called me Jones.” Michael couldn't help himself say, and Jeremy watched the peach pit spin on his index finger, then fall into his palm. 

“I’m trying out a new persona.”

“A persona where you call me Bossman?” Geoff said.

“Or  _ Ramsey _ , if you like that better.” Jeremy teased, and Geoff cackled.

“No one has called me that in years.”

“Oh god, you sound like you’re a million years old, what was that?”

“What?” Geoff exclaimed, his voice breaking like glass, “It’s true! No one has called me that in a while.”

“Okay, but you still sounded like an old man.” Jeremy pointed out. “Michael, didn’t that make him sound, like, ancient?”

Michael, caught off guard, said, “A little.”

Geoff sighed and started for the cupboard, muttering “I’m too old for _ this _ , that’s for sure.” Gavin, in his haste to scurry away from Geoff, knocked over a ceramic bowl full of flour. It cracked open on the ground and a puff of white shot up. 

Gavin shouted, then hissed as he dropped his handful of glass on top of the broken bowl. Michael was close enough to see the blood already mixing with flour on his skin, creating a mottled pink paste in his palm.

“Jesus, Gavin.” Jeremy reprimanded, then laughed. Gavin’s annoyed frown lifted slightly and he chuckled.

“Damn near cut off my finger.” He lifted his hand, palm out, and a large slice adorned the spot where his pointer finger met the rest of his hand. Geoff peeked at it and gagged. Gavin glanced at him and his face clouded.

“Go clean it up, you’re going to get blood everywhere.” Jeremy suggested. Sure enough, blood poured over the barrier of flour and began running down his arm and, eventually, dripping off his elbow. Jeremy pushed him between the shoulder blades, forcefully directing him out of the room.

When he was gone, Geoff stooped over to collect the glass. Jeremy stared at the back of his neck and tossed the peach pit at his head. A satisfying crack followed, and it hit the wood floor.

Geoff shouted in surprise or pain, clutched his head, and looked around, bewildered. Jeremy’s face was stony and Michael could only just contain his laughter.

“What was that?” Geoff shouted in an octave Michael had never heard.

“How did talking with Meg go?” Jeremy asked as if nothing happened.

Geoff rubbed the back of his head and scowled before speaking, “It was fine. Found out it probably wasn’t humans who broke into Michael’s house, Meg thinks it was  _ servos _ , or whatever. Demons.”

“What were demons doing in your house?” Jeremy asked, looking back at Michael.

“Meg said they want the teeth they think I have to revive someone or something.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “Woah. That’s serious.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Geoff grumbled, and rummaged around in a cupboard filled to the top with loose-leaf paper. 

“There  _ have _ been more demon attacks than normal lately.” Jeremy nodded, his mouth turned down. 

Geoff stopped sifting around in the paper to look up at Jeremy. “We still don’t know what happened to Joel, you think he could be a part of this? He knew Michael, right?”

The mention of Joel’s name made a sick feeling develop in his stomach. He tried not to think about it much, but it was especially hard in Cirrane where he passed Heyman’s Grocery often. He knew Joel was a demon, he was believed to have killed upwards of fifty people who were discovered, buried in the woods a short distance from his house. The thought made him shiver, that a demon could so seamlessly blend into human society and pluck them off one by one. However, as much as he thought of the betrayal he also remembered that he was his friend too.

Jeremy noticed Michael tense up and sighed. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think Joel would be a part of that. He was our friend.”

“Friend? Jeremy, he’s a demon. That’s why you went there in the first place.” Geoff said incredulously. Jeremy gave him a sharp look and Geoff raised his hands up in surrender. “I’m not re-hashing this. I’m just saying, it’s a possibility.”

“Joel was the reason you were in Cirrane?” Michael asked.

Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was there to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t cause any trouble. I was actually not convinced I had the right person at first.” Jeremy chuckled, something sad entered his eyes. “I’ve never met a demon that seemed so human.”

Michael bit the inside of his cheek hard. “And you’re sure he was a demon?”

“Uh, yeah. He was a demon alright.” Geoff said darkly. “It was only a matter of time before he gave into it.”

“Stop it, Geoff.” Jeremy snapped. Geoff just shrugged and continued searching for god knows what inside that stuffed cabinet.

“I know you liked him, but I know what he’s capable of. Let’s hope for our sake he is not involved.”

“He’s gone anyway. He fucked off after those people were killed.” Jeremy said defensively. 

“You still don’t think he did it?” Geoff put the papers he gathered down on the counter in front of him and set a harsh gaze on Jeremy. Michael stood quietly to the side and kept his mouth clamped shut, this really wasn’t an argument he thought he had any place in.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Jeremy said and crossed his arms. He kept his voice level, but Michael could see the lines of hurt on his face.

“Good. Well, I’m off to go see Ray. He might have information about these demons, and he should know what’s going on anyway.” Geoff folded up the pieces of paper and slipped them into his pocket.

“What?” Gavin’s voice came from behind Michael. He was standing in the doorway, his hand badly wrapped in thick white gauze. His head was tilted to the side and the early morning sun from the small window lit up the raised scar that crawled up his neck. “You’re leaving?”

Jeremy snapped out of his sulk and exclaimed, “You just got here!”

“What are you off to see  _ him _ for? That’s all the way in Dawsbury, it will take you days to get there.” Gavin argued. He looked at Jeremy as if to say  _ What is he thinking?, _ he did not look in Michael’s direction.

“Something is not right. If there is even a possibility that Astuk is up and running again…” Geoff trailed off and Michael saw something like a ghost flash in his eyes. He looked tense and worried, itching to go. “I have to figure this out.”

The sound of the door opening and closing punctuated Geoff’s statement. Heavy footsteps followed, and then Jack was darkening the doorway. His beard was shorter but he had the same kind, easygoing presence that was desperately needed in the room at that particular moment. Michael found himself happy to see him.

“Hey! Oh— what’s going on?” Jack stopped in his tracks when he saw everyone standing around on tenterhooks. He held a stuffed burlap sack in one strong hand, and a beautifully polished and sharpened axe in the other. He let the sack drop to the ground next to him and it landed with a solid  _ thunk _ onto the sagging and creaking floorboards.

“Geoff is leaving to go see Ray.” Jeremy said pointedly. He leaned back in his position sitting on the counter and crossed his arms. 

“Right now?” There was something disappointed in Jack’s voice, he leant the axe against the wall next to him. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Damn right it is!” Gavin cried.

“Will all of you shut up?” Geoff barked, and everyone did. Gavin pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and leant backwards against the opposite wall. Geoff sighed and slumped his shoulders. “Okay, listen. I am afraid that these demons are trying to revive someone important, and if we don’t figure this out quickly we might have another demon infestation on our hands.”

A stunned silence followed and Michael felt out of his depth. Jack and Geoff were staring at each other, Geoff’s hands were clenched at his sides. 

“I don’t know Geoff, I think you need to rest first.” Jeremy offered quietly.

“There’s no time.” He countered flatly.

“Don’t they think  _ he _ has the teeth?” Gavin asked and pointed a long, thin finger in Michael’s direction. They all turned to look at him and his face heated up. Gavin still didn’t so much as glance in his direction, just kept his finger pointed.

“Uh.” Michael said, intelligently. 

“And if they think he has them, they’re just out looking for _ him _ .” Gavin said. Jeremy was staring at the ceiling and nodding his head slowly. Geoff was looking at Michael blankly.

“You don’t need to go rushing out right this second, at least wait until tomorrow.” Jack said softly and rested a hand on Geoff’s tense shoulder. He stood stock still for a moment before sighing deeply.

“You’re right. You’re right.” He ceded, rubbing his hands over his face harshly. “As long as they don’t find the teeth.”

“But if I don’t have them, aren’t they out there somewhere?” Michael wondered.

“Yeah but for now, they are looking for you. For whatever reason, they think that you have them. As long as you’re here they’re just out wandering.” Jack said reasonably, and everyone nodded. Michael felt like a hunted animal, as if he had a target on his chest.

Geoff sniffed and scrunched up his nose. “Gav, what’s that smell?”

Michael hadn’t realized but a thin haze of smoke had overtaken the kitchen in the time that they were talking, and he smelled something burning.

“THE BREAD!” Jeremy shouted and flung himself off the countertop. He stumbled for a moment on his bad leg but still moved quickly. Gavin swore and rushed to the woodstove behind Jeremy. Jack chuckled and leant against the doorframe, watching the chaos unfold. 

“Bollocks! Shit, Jeremy. That was the last of the flour.” Gavin said sadly as the other faerie pulled a smoking, blackened loaf of bread out of the chamber. He dumped it on the counter and it crumbled slightly. Bits of charcoal cascaded down the sloped top of the bread and onto the ground.

“Well it wouldn’t have been if  _ someone _ hadn’t dropped the rest of it on the ground and bled in it.” Jeremy countered and motioned to the layer of white powder that covered the floor and most of the counter. There were spots of red on the ground that looked like blood on snow.

“Oi, it’s not my fault I’m full of blood.”

"I'll get some flour when I go back to Hollyhead." Jack said and picked up the burlap sack he dropped on the ground, interrupting the ridiculous argument. The ties strained against whatever was shoved so tightly inside. He tucked it neatly under his arm and touched Geoff's elbow, guiding him to follow him up the stairs. He followed without complaint, leaving Jeremy, Gavin and Michael standing in strange silence in the dirty kitchen.

"It was going to be good bread too." Jeremy said sadly. "We used herbs Ryan grew and everything." 

Gavin grunted and purposefully, awkwardly stared at the floor. 

Jeremy sighed after a beat of silence. “You know what? No. I’m sick of this. You two: talk. I’m going to see what Ryan’s doing.” He left the room, the sound of his leg dragging on the ground faded until it was just Michael and Gavin alone.

Michael saw the stiffness in Gavin’s posture and the peculiar way his feet fidgeted as he stared at them. He seemed to be waging a war in his head, his eyes flicked around as if he was weighing his options. Light filtered through the small, dirty window above the washbasin and lit up the flour-covered ground in front of them.

“Um.” Michael began, and cleared his throat. He knew if he just stood there waiting for Gavin to talk, they’d be in a standstill forever. “I know you hate humans or whatever, but I—”

“It’s fine.” Gavin said suddenly. He sounded embarrassed.

“I mean, I get it. I’m sorry about what happened to you.” Michael continued, trying to be as sincere as possible.

Gavin finally looked up from his raggedy old shoes and his eyes were strangely reflective, his gaze bored into Michael. He felt something in his head as if someone opened it up and poked around, inspected it; then closed it again. Before he could recover from the strange sensation, Gavin’s eyes returned to their normal green and he blinked, then gave a smile so small Michael almost missed it.

“Jeremy said you were good but I didn’t believe him. You’re not bad.” He said simply.

Michael’s head still felt strange but he spit out a laugh anyway, it sounded harsh in the silence. “Yeah, I’m not bad.”

Gavin smiled again, a little wider, and the scar on his cheek from the vampire pulled the skin around it taught. He still stood awkwardly, obviously not knowing how to continue. Michael’s stomach growled loudly, and he remembered then that he had had very little to eat for the past couple days. Gavin just laughed, it was squeaking and silly and Michael was shocked at the faerie’s transformation from the last time he saw him, just the day before.

“Hungry?” Gavin asked, dramatically wiping his eyes.

“Fuck yeah I am.” Michael said. He looked around, he knew there wouldn’t be much for him there. There were still a bunch of oranges scattered around but he needed something more substantial.

Outside the kitchen window, a crow landed on the sill and seemed to peer in the windows. A thin blue ribbon was tied around its neck, it stood out against its oil black, slippery coat of feathers. It had intelligent eyes and cocked its head to get a better look inside. Then, as if it had been spooked by Michael’s noticing of it, it flew away in a flurry of black.

Michael immediately forgot about the strange bird, and instead remembered that the woods outside were teeming with wildlife. He turned to Gavin and gave a sly grin.

“Do you guys have any weapons?”

A flash of fear crossed Gavin’s face briefly, then he seemed to realize what Michael was getting at. He smiled too. It looked good on him, the smile. Better than a snarl like the one he received when he arrived a few days prior. 

“We do, in fact.”

“Well Gavin,” Michael said, and shocked himself by laying a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch, but looked surprised as well. “Let’s go get some food!”


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was writing and decided that I wanted to edit the relationship(s) in this fic a little. Previously it was listed as ot6, but after some consideration I decided to split them up into pairs with some overlap lol. It makes more sense with where the story is going, I hope yall don't mind too much! Enjoy~

Geoff felt the crushing wave of anxiety lapping at the edges of his mind, a tide he had been attempting to fight off since talking with Meg the day before. It was building slowly, and now it was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t stop wondering and worrying about who it was that those demons could be reviving, or how Astuk could possibly be operating without anyone noticing. Everything seemed to be building up to something— but what?

He trudged up the stairs behind Jack with feet that were beginning to feel heavier and heavier. When they reached the landing Geoff thought his head might explode in a shower of panic and confusion. Jack’s eyes were warm and concerned when he touched Geoff’s cheek lightly.

“You look awful.” He said, Geoff batted his hand away and felt a surge of annoyance and shame that the others could read him so easily. All anyone said to him was that he looked awful, or tired, or sick. And he was sick, he knew that. Jack knew it, that’s why whenever he looked at him lately there was a line between his brows and a hopeless look in his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks Jack. I know.” He snapped. He turned around and stalked into the bedroom and pulled the thick, dark drapes down from their hooks to cover the windows. The room was plunged into soft darkness that made Geoff more comfortable. The light was beginning to wear on his fatigued eyes.

“You really need to rest, you’re not going to get any better if you keep running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” Jack chastised gently and closed the door behind him. He threw his burlap sack on the ground next to him. Geoff sat down on the edge of the bed and let his head hang low, stretching his neck and shoulders. 

He felt the bed next to him dip and Jack’s large hands were rubbing circles on his back. He longed to lean into the touch and let himself be soothed, but something dark and ashamed in his brain made him shy away, then stand up abruptly. He turned around and in the dim light saw Jack’s face, unchanged. Still that mask of sympathy and understanding that made Geoff want to scream.

“Can you just—” Geoff sighed and shook his head. “I’ll be okay once we figure this out.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about  _ you _ .” 

“You don’t get it, do you? This could ruin everything! If these demons are trying to revive someone important; which they must be if they’re going through all this trouble— they’re getting more powerful.” Geoff felt hysterical, it was like all his worst nightmares were coming true.

Jack sat still for a moment, searching Geoff’s expression. His voice was quiet when he spoke, “You’re not well.”

Geoff stared at him. He really was not understanding what he was saying. It was like he wasn’t even listening, just giving him that same look, like he knew more. Like he knew better.

“I’m well.” He said coldly and crossed his arms.

“I noticed it when we were in Easthallow trying to find those ghouls, there’s something wrong.” Jack continued as if he hadn’t said anything. Geoff bristled.

“Oh, what— are you worried I’m going to hurt you? You think I’m crazy?” He spat. Jack recoiled a little at that, and something vindictive and mean in Geoff felt proud. The rest of him felt disgusted.

“I didn’t say that.” Jack got up then, and peeled the drapes back a little to let some light in. It burned after being in the dark for a while. Geoff chewed on the inside of his cheek and his blood tasted bitter in his mouth, he nearly gagged. Jack just looked out the window.

“You all think I’m some bitch who can’t take care of myself, every time you—”

“Enough, Geoff.” Jack snapped. He turned to Geoff and his expression was hard. “We don’t think you’re weak. I’m not scared of you, I’m scared _ for _ you. Alright?”

“I am  _ fine _ .” Geoff said through clenched teeth. “I am not the problem here. I am not important. You know what is important? The fact that somewhere out there, demons are gathering. They are trying to bring someone back, and we are doing nothing.” He hissed.

“You’re important.” Jack said stubbornly.

Geoff made a harsh noise of frustration and pulled at his hair. “Could you fucking listen to me?”

“So what do you want to do? Go running to see Ray, only for him to be just as clueless as you? Then what?” Jack shouted.

“At least it’s something! Maybe he knows about Astuk or who they’re trying to bring back, he deals with demons. That’s what he  _ does _ . It’s better than sitting here with a thumb up my ass!” Geoff fumed.

Jack closed his eyes and breathed heavily. Without opening his eyes he said, voice tight, “I don’t think this is as big a deal as you’re making it out to be.”

Geoff sputtered incredulously and grabbed Jack’s shoulders. “What if they’re trying to bring back Kovic? Huh? You really want that mean motherfucker to be out and about again?”

Jack shook his head, he looked unsure. “It’s unlikely. He was just a general, anyway.”

“Jack, it doesn’t matter. He was powerful. He had leverage, and he still would. You didn’t see it. You don’t know—” His voice broke and Jack’s hand came up to his shoulder, fingers lightly grazing his neck. Geoff shrugged him off and continued, “You weren’t there. He riled them up, he made them even worse.” He began rubbing his hands together nervously. Jack looked thoughtful.

“Well, even if they do bring him back, we have killed demons before. We could handle it. It won’t be the end of the world.”

“He’s not just any demon though, he was high up in the Crow’s ranks, and he’d have followers behind him.”

“Well at least they can’t bring back—”

“Don’t.” Geoff stopped him, his heart beat painfully in his chest. “That would be impossible. His body was destroyed completely. No chance.”

“We’re not even sure what they’d do with the teeth. It’s not certain that they’re trying to bring Kovic back, or anyone for that matter.”

“What else would they do with them?”

Jack rubbed his hand down his face and sat down heavily. The old bed groaned under him. “I’m not going to pretend I know how demons think. I just— you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions. If there’s a possibility that demons are organizing themselves again, I’m going to do anything I can to stop it.” His voice was steady and they locked eyes, he tried to keep his chin up. His legs trembled.

Jack’s hands were planted firmly on his thighs, he was bracing himself. He lifted them slightly up, palms facing Geoff, as if to say  _ whatever. _

Geoff scoffed and turned towards the window, he peeked out at the bright colors of the forest. He found himself unable to recognize the brilliance of the red and green trees surrounding the house, with their wide, dark trunks and broad leaves. He looked at them as he had many times before, but it was as if he was seeing them in black and white. He felt a tired hopelessness that overtook him out of nowhere, it replaced the anxiety and frustration and made him feel lethargic. It was strange, Jack seemed to notice the shift in his mood.

“You alright?” Jack asked.

“Mmhm.” Geoff hummed. He stared and his eyes couldn’t focus. He saw figures moving below, Gavin and Michael were armed with bows and they walked together, deeper into the forest. They were laughing and he wondered absently when they reconciled. He didn’t know how long he and Jack had been in that room, arguing.

He turned around slowly and Jack was not-so-discreetly staring.

Something in his brain shrunk away and Geoff followed, he dropped his head low onto his shoulders and crossed his arms. He didn’t feel entirely in control of his body when he took a nervous step back. “What?” He snapped.

Jack just shook his head. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

“I don’t need help.” Geoff said weakly.

Jack gave a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t say anything.

“I’m fine, I just need to sleep is all.” Geoff said, and shuffled over to the side of the bed. He felt as if something was pushing him, putting dark pressure on his shoulders to force him down. He wanted to say something to Jack, he could see the tense outline of his shoulders, illuminated by the light from the window; but something grabbed his tongue and he felt sedated again. His eyes slipped closed for a moment, and when he opened them Jack was gone.

He heard a gravelly, thick voice in his head; one that he was familiar with. It was coming from the inside.

_ “Keep it up, Ramsey. I’m not done with you yet.”  _

He wanted to hit his head, to get that worm out of his ear. He knew it wasn’t actually there, not anymore. But the sound of its voice made all the hair on Geoff’s body stand on end, his teeth grinded, and his fingers twitched. He was reminded of when his body wasn’t his own, when that voice poured smoothly out of his own mouth. He wanted it gone, but knew it would never leave. So he laid there, alone and defeated, as its voice kept him awake like it had for years.

_ “You think you can get rid of me, and every time I prove you wrong.” _

_ “I may not have your body anymore, but I have your mind.” _

_ “You can try to ignore me but I  _ am _ you.” _

He eventually fell asleep, and dreamt of nothing but static.

  
  
  
  


The forest was more alive than Michael had ever seen it.

He and Gavin were creeping through the forest, searching for game. Golden light filtered through the bright, inviting foliage of the upper canopy of trees. Michael looked around and couldn’t believe he was in the same area of woods, no longer were there giant spiders spinning large, thick, viscous webs; or the sound of harsh giggling from every bush or tree he passed. The haunting gray light that seemed the only source of light that could make it that deep into the forest was gone, and instead the sun shone bright and happy through the leaves.

He was afraid at first to leave the house and wander into the forest because of the, y’know, group of insane demons out to get him, but Gavin seemed very sure that they would be okay for a couple hours at least. He said that if anyone came for them he had some tricks up his sleeve, and not to worry. Michael reluctantly agreed.

Strange birds he had never noticed tweeted and sang, cheerfully floating and buzzing among the low-hanging branches. Some nests were just at eye level, and Michael saw the brightly colored, smooth eggs inside. When he looked down, wild mice and voles scampered through large, gnarled roots and mounds of dead leaves and pine needles. 

They walked through the trees, talking quietly and trying to keep their inevitable giggling to a minimum. As soon as he and Gavin actually began talking, they got along immediately. Gavin was nervous at first, his smiles and laughs, however raucous— were guarded. But as they searched the dark, dusty storage shed for bows, Gavin tripped over almost everything, including his own feet, and Michael had never seen someone lose a facade so quickly. He swore when he tripped over a rusty tin watering can, and then listed another slew of nonsensical exclamations. Michael was bent over laughing, and Gavin followed; a squeaking, breathless, stomach-grabbing laugh. 

Gavin made a movement and broke Michael from his reverie. “Nice, innit?” He remarked and breathed in dramatically, then let it out in a huff, arms spread out. He almost whacked Michael across the face.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Michael said in awe. “Every time I’ve been here it’s been…”

“What? Dark, dreary, terrifying?” Gavin smiled. Michael nodded and laughed.

“Yeah, I’d say so. Why is it so different?”

“She’s in a good mood, I suppose.”

Michael scoffed. “What, the forest?”

Gavin stopped abruptly and stretched an arm out to block Michael as well. He was staring through the trees to a small clearing with tall grass, dotted with several large, strong-looking bucks. The sun was bright over there, it shone a spotlight onto the animals and they revelled in its warmth. The air wasn’t cold, but it was getting cool enough that the sunlight was a welcome presence. 

The bucks stared watchfully into nothing, they hadn’t noticed the pair. They occasionally ducked their heads down to graze, the large muscles in their necks pulsed with each movement of their jaws.

Michael caught a glimmer in Gavin’s eye, and he couldn’t help but to grin back. Gavin made a nonsensical hand gesture and nocked his bow.

“Can you even shoot that thing?” Michael asked, and Gavin didn’t reply. Instead, he drew the bowstring and aimed in one fluid motion, his arms didn’t tremble as he held the position for a moment, waiting.

Michael was impressed, he saw Gavin trip at least five separate times on tree roots and thought he would be the one to actually shoot the animal. He seemed to be experienced in wielding a bow.

The bucks in the field, all their heads previously trained on the ground, shot up through the tall grass, all staring at something to the left of him and Gavin. Gavin’s pose faltered and the bucks bounded away.

Michael looked through the trees and saw a large, dark shape standing close to the clearing. It stood in the partial cover of a particularly low-hanging tree, it’s head was obscured, but Michael could see the dark lower body.

Gavin trained his bow on the figure and backed up, Michael did the same. His arms trembled with the force needed to keep the bow engaged, and his nerves were getting the best of him.  _ What if it’s Adam, or Joel? _

When the figure was out of sight, Gavin turned around on his heel and began marching in the opposite direction. Michael had to jog for a moment to catch up.

“What was that?” He managed, and almost tripped on an exceptionally tall tree root.

“Don’t know, but it’s not worth confronting everything in the forest.” Gavin said, then after seeing Michael’s concerned face, continued, “Probably nothing, I’m just afraid of tricksters.”

“What the fuck is a trickster?”

Gavin touched his chin with a delicate finger and twisted his mouth. “Well, they’re little buggers who wear these kind of dark capes, and they pretend to be valkyries or nymphs, and instead of helping you they eat your soul and send you to purgatory.”

Michael laughed nervously. “And you think that was one of those?”

Gavin shrugged. “It’s always a concern. That, or he was some normal bloke praying or casting a spell. There are plenty of fae in this forest that don’t cause any trouble.”

Michael rolled that thought around in his mind. Normal fae. He supposed this group couldn’t be the only good faeries, that there was a whole population of creatures in the forest that just live their lives like he did, day by day. It was just strange to think about, there was a whole civilization outside the one that he was raised in.

They kept walking, the ground was covered in pine needles and rotting leaves, so their steps were near silent. It was a comfortable lapse in conversation they kept up, Gavin closed his eyes and tipped his face up to the sun every once in a while. It was a large improvement to the paranoid, terrified, angry faerie he witnessed a few days prior. 

“So, Gavin. What made you decide to… y’know. Not hate me?” Michael asked, and felt stupid immediately. He was curious, but kicked himself for asking and potentially spoiling the mood.

Gavin didn’t seem to mind. “Jeremy told me about you. I mean, I figured if he likes you so much then you can’t be that bad.”

Michael’s face heated up fractionally and he felt a surge of affection for Jeremy. He hated to admit it but he had never had many friends, especially when he was a child. But when he moved to Cirrane and Jeremy came soon after, they instantly clicked. The months that he was alone when Jeremy left were quiet and cold, Michael barely spoke to anyone. He was painfully lonely, a feeling he never used to experience. Even before Jeremy, he was alone but he was used to it. 

Gavin smiled lopsidedly and kicked a stray pinecone in front of him. “Yeah, I needed to get over some things as well. I— well, you know.” He paused. “I needed to realize that not all humans are like the ones who attacked me.”

Michael was surprised by his honesty. He offered, haltingly, “I kinda, uh, had the same realization. Not all fae are bad.”

“Yeah? You don’t think we’re going to kill you anymore?” Gavin teased.

Michael chuckled. “You were my last worry. No, you guys are alright.”

Gavin hummed and bounced a bit as he walked. 

The trees began thinning, and the grass grew tall and lush. It waved smoothly, back and forth, in the breeze. Michael saw it part in some places as smaller animals crawled around in the growth. Gavin took a deep breath and, once again, drew his bow and pointed it down into the underbrush. He stayed posed for a moment, and as soon as the grass twitched, he released.

A loud, quick squeak attacked Michael’s ears and Gavin proudly strode forward and pulled the largest rabbit Michael had ever seen out of the grass. 

“Woah, what the hell is that thing?” Michael gasped and circled it, poking it with the end of an arrow. It was about four feet long and its fur was silver-gray and plush. The wound in the center of its back was bleeding sluggishly. 

“It’s a rabbit!” Gavin beamed, and shook it around a bit. He was holding its large feet in one fist.

“That’s a big fuckin’ rabbit.” Michael said.

Gavin looked confused. “This one is young, how big do you think rabbits are?”

Michael was slack jawed and showed Gavin with his hands the size of normal, not-monstrous rabbits. Gavin shook his head and stared at his kill. “What do you eat, then?”

Michael shrugged. “Pigs, sheep, chickens, mostly. Sometimes cows, but they’re usually saved for holidays.”

“That’s lush! I’ve never even seen a pig in real life, I thought my father made them up.” He said in awe. 

Michael wrinkled his nose and tilted his head. “I worked at a butcher and I had to cut them up every day. I assure you, they’re real.”

Gavin let out an amazed “Wow.”, before pulling a small black object from his pocket. Michael was about to ask what it was when he handed it over and told him to shake it.

Confused, he did, and it quickly expanded until it became a deep bag. It was made of a tightly woven, black fabric.

“Hold it open, would you?” Gavin grunted as he lifted the rabbit up high above his head. Michael complied and held the bag open so he could lower the animal into it.

“Why?” Michael asked, simply.

“Just in case there are trolls around, they’ll try to take it from us.”

Michael nodded, it was strange but he changed the subject. “So you mostly eat these rabbits, then?” He asked as he tied the top of the bag closed and hauled it over his shoulder.

“Not really, I haven’t actually been hunting in a long time. Jack usually gets things like flour, sugar, and fish from Hollyhead.”

“They still let him in? Most towns in Iden are on lockdown right now.” Michael said, and they began walking again.

“Yeah, he technically lives there. He does the same thing Jeremy did in Cirrane, he protects the town from a pretty nasty settlement of ghouls up in the mountain.”

Michael nodded slowly. He remembered passing through Hollyhead when he was younger, it was a small, densely populated town at the foot of a mountain. It was bordered by a wide, winding river called Hullpit, which provided the town with fish that sustained them. The rich soil lining the river was also good for growing sugarcane and rice.

“Do all of you stay in other places like that?” Michael asked and shifted how he was holding the rabbit.

“No, just Jack and Jeremy. They’re more patient. I couldn’t believe Jeremy could stay in that village with a powerful demon and not kill him whenever he saw him.” Gavin shook his head.

The comment stung and Michael replied, annoyed, “Joel was his friend.”

“Friend or not, he was a demon. There are no good demons.” Gavin said darkly.

Michael frowned but continued walking at Gavin’s side. He remembered once, shortly after he arrived in Cirrane, a noble came from Dawsbury, the royal city, in a large horse-drawn carriage. It was decorated with the King’s crest, and draped in lavish red silk flags. The people of Cirrane were nonplussed, as they were a poor farming town, and this noble rolled in carrying “gifts” of wine and grapes from the capital.

The children in the area were excited by the commotion, not knowing better, and were especially excited by the perfectly groomed and decorated horses towing the large buggie. The only horses they had ever seen were old, dirty, and constantly covered in flies.

Michael was standing next to Joel at the entrance to the grocery, arms crossed, watching with disdain at the gross display of wealth the king exercised every chance he got. One of the horses began stomping its polished hooves and neighing loudly, and Joel’s head snapped up. A small, tow-headed boy got too close to the horse and it picked up its feet, blowing air out of its nose harshly. The boy screamed in delight, and the large, muscular horse reared up on its back legs and thrashed around. The carriage began swerving, the noble shouted before he was thrown to the side in the cab.

Joel was on his feet in an instant and sprinted into the fray. The giant wheels of the carriage wobbled dangerously close to the child, and the horse escaped from its confines. It charged at the boy, eyes crazed and wild, but before it made contact Joel snatched him up and ran away from the frustrated animal as well as the furious noble who started screaming at and berating all the wide-eyed children.

Michael remembered Joel returning, the crying child in tow. His mother was inside the bakery at the time and, upon realizing her son was just saved from being turned into pulp at the foot of a huge gelding, threw herself into Joel’s arms and cried thanks. He was a mild-mannered, strange man and stood stiff as a board as the woman squeezed his shoulders, insisting that he come for dinner so they can repay him. Michael snickered behind his hand as Joel stammered and tried to free himself from her iron grip.

“No, no. That won’t be necessary, really. Thank you, ma’am, I’m just glad your boy is alright.”

The boy stared up at Joel through tear-filled eyes, a kind of wonder and fright in them. 

Michael thought of that memory, and wondered how Joel could be a demon. It didn’t seem possible, but he kept it to himself. He and Gavin continued on their trek, occasionally stopping if they heard something, but they didn’t see any more formidable animals the rest of their walk. Good thing the rabbit was huge, it could definitely feed several people.

The trees started changing as they got closer and closer to the house, the trunks got wider and darker; and the broad, veiny leaves turned a dark maroon, casting jagged, dark shadows on the ground. The golden light made them start to glow.

Out of the silence, Gavin gasped. “Oh, look Michael!” He was pointing at a couple bunches of flowering plants at the base of a dead, bleached tree. Its skeletal branches reached out for them and surrounded the plant in a sort of bone-like cage. Gavin bounded over and began snapping the dead branches out of the way. The plant’s small, white flowers were surrounded by perfectly smooth, green, heart-shaped leaves that Gavin was plucking selectively and stashing in his pocket. 

“What are you doing?” Michael asked, amusement evident in his voice. Gavin was stooped over and bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. When he gathered enough, he jumped up and turned, beaming.

“It’s wood sorrel!” He announced, and held a leaf out for Michael to take. He bent the supple leaf around in his calloused fingers.

“Eat it!” Gavin insisted.

“I’m good.” 

Gavin pouted and whined, “Michael, it’s good I promise.”

Hesitating, Michael smelled the bruised leaf. It smelled medicinal, like lemon and something bitter. Gavin looked expectant, and his eyes were so green and big like saucers. Michael caved and dropped the leaf onto his tongue.

The taste was sharp and bright, like lemon and peppermint. His throat cooled and he nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s good, but why’d you get so much of it?”

Gavin turned on his heel and began walking again. He started talking before Michael caught up.

“When I was younger, my mother would always smash it up with some water and put it on rabbit, because my brother hated it. It was the only way to get him to eat it.” A wistful tone invaded his voice, his face softened. “I remember, my father hated even the smell of the stuff. Didn’t get why he couldn’t just eat the rabbit, but he would always go make sure to find some every time.”

Michael smiled. “You can be in charge of cooking it then, I’ll cut the thing up.”

“Top.” He said and flashed his straight, white teeth.

The house floated into view as if in a dream, then solidified. Michael was starting to get used to the visual trickery and movement of the forest.

The house itself wasn’t ugly, or particularly run-down, but it seemed to lean on its side, and the siding might have once been white, but was now a washed out, unkept gray. It was larger than most houses Michael had ever seen, it was L shaped with a small, fenced in courtyard. He never noticed but there was a bright, abundant garden in the shade of a blooming apple tree. Apples were scattered all around the yard, specs of red against the green grass.

Jack was in the garden, on his knees in front of an overgrown green bean plant, whose tiny white flowers bounced around as Jack diligently picked the long green pods from the stems. He placed each one gently in a large wicker basket that was already loaded with potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, and beetroot. He waved when they approached, his hands covered in rich, brown soil. 

“Find anything?” He asked and wiped a dirty hand across his forehead.

“Gavin killed the biggest rabbit I’ve ever seen.” Michael said and shook the bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Good, we can have an actual meal then!” Jack clapped his hand together. “I think Jeremy is cleaning in there, so we’ll have room.”

“Cleaning? Really?” Gavin looked shocked.

“Yeah, Geoff is asleep. I think it’ll be nice to wake up to.”

Gavin frowned, just for a moment, then shook himself. “Well, let’s hope he takes it better than last time.”

Jack chuckled and shooed them away. “Yeah, it’ll be fine, he’ll deal. Go do something.”

Gavin saluted and marched away, Michael laughed freely and followed. They walked around the house to the stuffed shed to return the bows. 

“Eh, just toss ‘em in.” Gavin sighed as soon as he opened the door and saw that there was no floorspace for him to walk to the spot where the bows were previously, hung on the opposite wall. The room was filled with swords and discarded weapons, giant burlap sacks stuffed with god knows what, and barrels with the tops just barely secured.

Michael did as he was told, and tossed his unused bow. It bounced off the wall and clattered to the ground somewhere behind the barrels. Gavin did the same and they giggled to themselves.

“What’s in the barrels?” Michael asked. He saw something shiny reflecting through a crack in one of them.

Gavin waved his hand around. “Gold, or something. We get a lot of it, people don’t know how else to pay us.”

“Wait, seriously? Those are filled with  _ gold _ ?” Michael gasped, and whipped around to count how many barrels were in the crowded shed. There were five. “That’s insane! You guys are rich!”

Gavin scrunched up his face. “Bloody worthless, though. It’s not like we can spend it.”

Michael thought about that, how he supposed fae didn’t have much of an economy, at least not one dominated by gold and silver.

“Why do people give you gold?” He asked as Gavin closed the door.

“They give it to us when we do things for them. How does anyone get gold?” Gavin said slyly.

“You know what I mean. What do you  _ do _ ?”

“Help, mostly. Kill baddies. Jack builds houses sometimes, Ryan makes potions. It really depends.” He paused and rubbed a twitching hand up and down his neck. Michael didn’t comment on the movement, even when he kept doing it incessantly. “We used to have a place closer to Easthallow that humans would come to when they needed anything done. Most of the gold is leftover from that. It was mostly Ryan and Jack’s deal, though.”

“And they didn’t suspect that you’re faeries?”

Gavin shrugged. “No one said anything, the guards were suspicious when we first set up shop but eventually they asked for our help too.” He laughed, “It was a long time ago.”

Michael hummed and they started towards the front porch again. Gavin kept a watchful eye on the treeline.

Ryan’s army of small potted plants looked especially abundant today, some with large, bulbous fruits and others with a crystalline white coating on their drooping leaves. One in particular caught Michael’s eye, it was the tallest of the bunch but seemed to have the smallest pot. It had a thick, branch-like stem that made his skin crawl with its matte, porous texture. It looked as if ants had eaten through it, but it literally pulsed with life. Every few seconds, its dark green leaves fluttered and made a high-pitched squeaking noise. Michael thought he saw tiny mouths on them.

He tore his eyes away from the strange collection and followed Gavin inside to the sitting room, where disturbed dust hung in the air. The mess of papers, books, and journals that previously crowded the room were neatly organized and displayed, spines out, in a grand bookcase that Michael hadn’t noticed was even there before. The faded, worn blankets that used to hang in front of the foggy windows were gone, and the panes were beautifully restored, letting in light from the late afternoon sun. The floor was swept, the expensive-looking rugs were straightened, and the desk on the wall closest to the door was cleaned off. It looked like it belonged in a different house. 

“Holy shit, Jeremy.” Michael said when he saw the other man appear in the doorway, a scrap of fabric wrapped around his head to cover his nose and mouth. He had a bent-up straw broom in one hand and let out a loud breath when he saw them.

Muffled, he said, “Getting there!”

“You think you’ll be done before Geoff wakes up?” Gavin asked. He ran a finger slowly down the wall then inspected it. He looked up at Jeremy, a playful gleam in his eye.

Jeremy picked up on it, his eyes smiled. “Yeah, if you stay out of my way.”

Gavin huffed and strode forward, taking Jeremy in his long arms. The other faerie let out a shocked yelp and dropped his broom as Gavin shook him around, doing a strange one-sided jig.

“Gav, what—” He was cut off when Gavin pulled the fabric down off his face and kissed him, cupping his face gently with both hands. It lasted only a moment but when they pulled away, Gavin was beaming.

“Lil J,” He cooed and pet the top of his head. He seemed to forget Michael was standing a few feet behind them, trying to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor. Jeremy didn’t forget, however, and cast a nervous glance back at him. He coughed and gave Gavin a meaningful look and squeezed his arm. Gavin stepped away and, as if nothing happened, floated into the kitchen and  _ oooo’d _ and  _ aaah’d _ at the progress Jeremy had made.

Jeremy’s face was red as a beet and Michael would have laughed if he wasn’t frozen in place. He didn’t know Jeremy and Gavin were… involved. Apparently they were.

“Uh, that… um.” Jeremy stuttered, then stopped. He blinked and shook his head. “Sorry… about that.” He looked incredibly awkward.

Michael didn’t know how to feel. He was confused, and shocked, of course. But he couldn’t bring himself to react in any kind of meaningful way because, honestly, crazier things have happened lately. He shook himself and shrugged, determined to start taking anything he saw in stride.

“Whatever, man. I don’t care.” His voice was nonchalant, Jeremy shook his head and let out a sharp breath.

“It’s not… huh.” He stopped himself, then chuckled sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Gavin, man.”

“He’s a character for sure.” Michael said, amused. It was funny to see Jeremy so flustered, he was normally very confident, but his face was still flushed and he was moving his hands a lot.

“I’m glad to see you guys are getting along now.” Jeremy said, apparently desperate to change the subject.

Michael let him, “He’s alright, actually. We got on quick after you forced us to talk.”

Jeremy smiled proudly and gave Michael’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “I knew you would. Look at you, actually talking to people for once.”

“I talk to people.”

“Oh yeah? Who have you talked to in the past couple months? Your pet rock?” He teased, and Michael let out a raucous laugh. 

“I’ll have you know there was a girl who would come by the butcher’s all the time, and she’d stay and talk to me for like, an hour after I gave her what she wanted.”

“Yeah? Ever invite her back?” Jeremy winked and snickered, Michael punched his arm.

“No, she lives in Rochdale.”

“Yeah, sure. Excuses.” Jeremy nudged.

Michael rolled his eyes at his friend and suddenly missed this, missed the way they were. How they used to be, wandering around Cirrane aimlessly on church days that they didn’t participate in. He realized that, with all the running around and adjusting to being in the forest with them, he hadn’t really  _ talked _ to Jeremy. Not really. He felt a chasm between them where there previously was not one.

“I—” Michael was cut off by a loud smash from the kitchen, and Gavin’s upset squawk.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and wheeled around to assess the damage. The entire kitchen was in disarray, as it was in the middle of being cleaned. The table stood on two legs, propped up on the wall. There was trash and ashes and flour and  _ filth _ all over the ground, and the countertops were truly piled high with nonsense. Every cabinet and drawer was wide open. Gavin stood next to the woodstove, surrounded by large, white shards of ceramic plate.

“God dammit Gavin.” Jeremy sighed.

“How did you manage that?” Michael added.

Gavin hung his head low in shame and shrugged pitifully. A small, fond smile decorated Jeremy’s face and Michael wondered how he used to think faeries were so far from human.

“Alright, that’s it.” Jeremy said. A mischievous smirk was painted on his face and he rolled up his sleeves dramatically. Gavin’s eyes widened and he started to scramble away but Jeremy was faster, surprisingly; even with his leg. He grabbed Gavin around his waist and lifted him off the ground, then threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Michael couldn’t stop the hysterical laugh that spilled from his lips as he watched Jeremy struggle to move forward with Gavin banging on his back with curled fists.

“Jeremy— christ!” He tried to sound indignant but he was smiling wide, his face was beginning to turn red from being held upside down. “It was an accident! I swear!”

Jeremy carried him through the sitting room to the porch. Michael stayed behind, shaking his head at their antics, and began picking up the larger pieces of the plates that were broken. He looked up and caught a glance of them through the window, Jeremy had set Gavin down and they were talking, heads close. Gavin’s expression was suddenly sober, his brows were slightly furrowed.

Michael looked away and considered the disgusting mess around him.

He sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his borrowed shirt, then got to work.


	8. Eight

By the time the kitchen was clean, the sun was red and dripping down the sky, and warm light shone brightly through the sparkling windows. Michael, Gavin, Jeremy, and Jack— who had joined in after his gardening, now sat around the small table in the corner of the room, admiring the job they had done. The counter was cleared off and wiped down, and all books or papers or anything that had no business being in the kitchen were relocated to a nearby bookshelf. There were so many bookshelves, but there was also a mass amount of books that, while Michael knew there were a lot; he didn’t know there were  _ that _ many. They found books stacked under chairs, stuffed behind furniture, in cabinets and drawers, and just on the ground. There were plays, fables, history, fiction, nature, and poetry. Along with the bound books were journals and unmarked pamphlets, as well as a large collection of hand-written essays and letters haphazardly clipped together or just loose-leaf. Jeremy had gone through the loose papers and organized them as best he could, then fit them into drawers. Jack swept and mopped the floor vigorously, removing years and years of built-up residue from the woodstove and grime and gunk from everyday life. 

There was a bathroom and two rooms down the hall, but the two rooms were locked and Jack said not to worry about them. So, Michael cleaned the bathroom that may have been even more disgusting than the kitchen. The ceramic tiles were yellow, and only when Michael lifted the dirty, flat rug he realized that the floor was supposed to be white. The washbasin was caked with grime and the walls were stained and covered in scorch marks and various strange splatters. It was like they never once cleaned in there, which didn’t surprise him when he paid attention to the state of the rest of the house.

Now that it was done, Michael felt a little more at home. He hated to admit it but he was beginning to like staying there, even though there were monsters just outside in the forest searching for him. He felt as if nothing bad would happen to him so long as he had one of the faeries with him. It was a strange feeling he never thought he would experience, but he trusted them. Even Ryan, who he hadn’t interacted much with, was nothing but kind, if slightly awkward— when he was around. Michael hadn’t seen much of him since he arrived. When he asked Jeremy what Ryan was doing, it was like a curtain drew over his face. His lips became a line and he tightly replied that he was trying to make a healing potion for Geoff. 

They all tiptoed around what exactly was wrong with Geoff, and Michael didn’t want to ask. He seemed fine when they were together at least, and was indignant when the others brought it up. So Michael just nodded and let the curiosity eat away at him. The thought of it being something serious or deadly made something in his heart pull, he really liked Geoff.

The sound of Gavin scraping his chair on the wood floor broke Michael from his reverie. He stood up and the chair moved backwards behind him.

“Michael, we still have to cook!” He said, and grabbed Michael’s arm. He wiggled it, trying to convince him to stand up. Michael let him, and wondered when they got so close that he didn’t seem to hesitate, all the fear and distrust was gone. It was gone in Michael as well, and he knew because his first reaction was to smile and swat him away. 

“Yeah, yeah. Jesus, give me a minute. Look at this place!” Michael gestured around. “When’s the last time you guys cleaned in here?”   
“Oh, god. Maybe twenty years ago? Thirty?” Jack wondered, then shrugged. “Too long.”

“Geoff doesn’t like when we clean.” Jeremy said quietly.

“Last time, he almost set the house—” Gavin started, but Jack gave him a sharp look and he clammed up and looked down. “Well, not really. He was mad.”

Michael looked at Gavin, at his slim frame and smooth skin, and wondered how he could remember cleaning the house that long ago. He looked about twenty-five.

“Uh, random question: how old are you guys? Like, Gav, how do you remember cleaning the house thirty years ago?”

Gavin laughed and replied, “I’m one hundred and ninety-two. Still young.” Jack rolled his eyes at that and Michael’s jaw dropped to the floor.

“ _ What _ ?”

“Faeries age very slowly.” Jeremy explained, amused. When Michael turned expectantly to him, he sighed and said, deadpan, “One seventy-six.”

“That’s incredible! Jack?” He couldn’t believe it, he never even asked Jeremy’s age in the years that they had known each other, he just assumed they were close enough and it didn’t matter much.

Jack tapped his chin for a moment before shrugging, “I stopped keeping track.”

“You don’t even know! That’s wild!” Michael raved. Now that he was no longer afraid of them, it was fascinating to learn more about faeries and their world.

“Faeries also get hungry! Let’s go!” Gavin insisted, and successfully pulled Michael from his seat.

Jeremy called out to them as Gavin dragged him out the door, “The flint is next to—”

“Next to the woodpile. I got it.” Gavin said, a strange edge in his voice. Jeremy huffed and Michael was torn from the room.

Outside, the sun was inching lower and lower towards the horizon, and its vibrant colors painted the sky. Everything alive seemed to buzz in anticipation. Gavin stalked over to the side of the courtyard, where a piece of bent metal wrapped around a stack of cut firewood and branches. They gathered armfuls of logs and Gavin plucked a shard of flint from a small shelf built into the fence. 

“There’s a fire pit near the garden.” He explained and opened the small gate that separated them from the courtyard. There was a small path leading through the plants to a small clearing close to the side of the house where there was a patch of blackened earth surrounded by scorched rocks. Gavin dumped his logs there and Michael did the same.

There was a thick, wide slab of wood against the side of the house that obviously served as a bench, and Michael sat down on it as Gavin arranged the wood for the fire. He held the piece of flint in his hand and rubbed the sharp point with the pad of his thumb. It was a small, unconscious movement that Michael noticed.

“Got any steel?” Michael asked and pointed at the flint.

“No need.” Gavin said. He dropped it into the center of the pile of wood and it began to glow, then catch fire. He smiled at Michael and the flame lit up the scarred side of his face. “Magic flint.”

Michael laughed, “Of course. Magic everything.”

“Not everything! We have a normal well.” Gavin defended and pointed to a sad, decrepit well on the edge of the property close to the treeline. The stones were crumbling and the rope looked ragged and worn.

“What a well.” Michael teased, and Gavin smacked his arm.

“Everything around here is old and falling apart.” He said, and a wistful look appeared on his face. “It didn’t used to be, obviously. When Jack and Geoff first built it it was so grand, Michael. Especially back then. I had never lived in a house before.”

“Where did you live, then?” Michael asked, and vaguely remembered Geoff telling him Gavin used to travel with his family. Information was getting so twisted up in his head lately though, he couldn’t be sure.

“Oh, we were wanderers. It was nice, but I like living here.” Gavin said simply. He poked the fire with a stick he picked up from the ground.

“My place in Cirrane is a dirt room, this is a step up for me.” Michael said. He paused for a moment and wondered if he could ever go back. After all this was sorted, he wouldn’t be able to just pick up where he left off. He would be interrogated by the guard, then what? Either he will be sent to an asylum, or be tried and hung for treason, if they found out he made contact with a cohort of faeries. He would probably have to move somewhere else, far away.

Gavin was looking at him strangely, and suddenly the red light from the sunset reflected off his eyes. Michael felt that strange sensation in his head again, like it was being opened up. He could almost feel the cool breeze that washed over them in his brain, and shivered deeply.

When it stopped, Gavin shook his head ever so slightly. Michael felt all around his skull and felt no opening, saw no blood, no evidence of entry. 

“What just happened?” He asked, fearful. Thoughts he couldn’t control started replaying in his head, maybe it was Adam, or a demonic curse, or he was about to die.

Gavin chuckled nervously and rubbed the side of his neck, up and down the scar. “I’m sorry, that was me.”

“What did you do? It felt like my fucking head opened up, you did it earlier too?”

Gavin nodded sheepishly. “It’s a silly little thing I can do, I can just take a little peek in people’s heads.”

Michael shifted away, mildly horrified. Gavin put his hands up and his eyes became desperate.

“Not like, read your thoughts. Not really, I can just see snippets of what you’re feeling and your subconscious dialogue.” He stopped and added, “That doesn’t sound any better.” 

“No, it doesn’t.” Michael snapped.

“I won’t do it again, I just— I did it earlier to see if you were telling the truth. I was making sure… I don’t know. I’m sorry, Michael.” His eyes were so wide and so green and they were pleading; Michael finally sighed and looked away, into the fire. It danced and flames licked at the burning sky.

“Don’t do it again, that shit felt weird.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Gavin said doggedly. 

After a moment Michael asked, gruffly, “So, do all of you have that? Like, powers.”

“Yeah, kinda. Faeries always have abilities, some are more powerful than others. Mine is pretty shabby, I can’t even properly read minds.” He shook his head. “Jack is physically strong, and most spells or mental powers like mine don’t work on him. He’s basically impenetrable, I’ve tried. Geoff can make people see what he wants them to, or alter their perceptions of what is happening around them.”

Michael nodded and remembered the guards at the gate in Easthallow letting them just walk by in the middle of the night.

Gavin continued, “Ryan doesn’t use his ability anymore. He doesn’t like to talk about it, he won’t tell me what it is.” He paused and looked around, checking to make sure no one else was listening. He leaned in close, “I think he used to do bad things with his powers.” He whispered. 

Michael’s eyes were wide and he thought about Ryan and his soft, awkward laugh, and the tender way he takes care of his plants. But he also saw his supernaturally blue eyes like glowing lapis, and the way he seemed to float when he walked. He shivered.

Gavin said, hurriedly, “He’s good now, though. He just makes potions.”

“What about Jeremy?” Michael asked. He was most curious about him, the man he liked to call his best friend, but who he realized he knows so little about.

Gavin’s face clouded and his mouth twisted. “Jeremy doesn’t have an ability. He could tell you more about it.” The words were forced out, and he didn’t say anything further. Michael was disappointed but noticed it struck some sort of chord in Gavin, who now frowned at the setting sun. 

As if on cue, Jeremy peeked his head around the corner of the house. There was blood splattered on his shirt and some on his face like he mistakenly touched his cheek with bloodied fingers.

“Good, the fire is ready. I cut up the rabbit.”

“Jesus, you roll around in it too?” Michael quipped, and Jeremy looked down as if he just realized he was covered in blood.

“Oh, you know.” He said vaguely, then laughed.

Gavin’s mouth was a straight line and he stared into the fire. Jeremy’s smile fell, and he looked disappointed. 

“Well, I’ll go get it.” He said, then disappeared. 

Gavin scoffed and jabbed the fire harder than necessary with his stick.

“What’s up with you guys?” Michael asked.

Gavin shrugged like a child, but remained silent.

Michael nudged him gently and raised his eyebrows. Gavin glanced over and let out a quick breath, like a humorless laugh. He dropped his stick into the fire.

“I just don’t understand him sometimes is all.”

Michael cocked his head to the side slightly, prompting him to continue. Gavin opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut when Jeremy reappeared with two skinned halves of the enormous rabbit in each hand. He hovered awkwardly at the closed gate, and Michael jumped up to open it for him. 

“Thanks, bud.” He said quietly, but didn’t move. He held the meat out for Michael to take by the leg quarters. “I’ll see you inside, Gav’s not happy with me.” He whispered.

Michael nodded, confused, and Jeremy smiled softly before returning to the house.

When he sat down again beside Gavin, he was holding two long skewers. They made quick work of spearing the halves and setting them up on the two forked pieces of wood on either side of the fire, so they hung above the flames.

The fire crackled and dusk was approaching, the sky was beginning to darken its colors, dashes of purple mixed with orange and the sun was saying its goodbye to the trees. They moved from side to side but there was no wind, the leaves waved, the branches sighed their farewells. Michael noticed when he paid attention, the forest was alive. It was sentient and whole, the trees and the earth were one.

Gavin had his knees tucked under his chin and his long arms wrapped around his shins. He watched the fire with a studious intensity, as if memorizing its pattern. It flared up often, when fat would render off the cooking meat into the blaze, and the yellow light poured all over the garden. The apples that covered the ground, some shriveled and bruised, turned golden and the grass flickered.

“You reckon it’s done?” Gavin asked after a while, when the outside of the rabbit was a burnished brown and it began to sag off the skewers. 

“I reckon it is.” Michael imitated Gavin’s accent and he pouted.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Michael retorted.

Gavin’s response wasn’t so much a string of words to form a coherent thought, but rather a series of surprised and mock-offended chuffs, squeaks, and generally nonsensical noises. Michael just watched the display, wondering again how there was a point, literally hours ago, that they did not get along. Gavin was silly, kind, and could make Michael laugh quicker than anyone he had ever met. He did not expect to be friendly so quickly, but he was grateful. It made his being there less lonely, less ostracized. He was beginning to feel like he truly didn’t belong anywhere, but sitting there laughing with Gavin lifted his spirits.

Gavin dumped a bucket of water on the fire and smoke billowed in the air, mixing with the ever-darkening colors of the sky. He fished the flint out of the mess and they each took a skewer and headed back inside.

Jeremy and Jack sat at the kitchen table, they both looked concerned. Jack was twisting his beard hair between his fingers absently, and his leg bounced up and down. Jeremy just looked resigned.

“What happened in here?” Michael asked, and set down the food on a plate on the newly cleaned counter.

“Looks like it's just us for dinner.” Jack said. He was trying not to sound bothered, but Michael saw the deep lines of worry on his brow.

“Geoff’s not coming down?” Gavin asked. Jack shook his head.

“Ryan either. He’s in the lab.” Jeremy added.

Gavin’s jaw clenched and he backed up into the kitchen. He pulled the leaves from his pockets and dumped them into a large mortar and pestle, along with salt and water, and began violently crushing them up. 

Jeremy watched, he bit his lip guiltily.

Jack noticed the tension in the room and clasped his hands together, a broad smile suddenly on his face. “Well, we can still have a good time. Michael, could you grab some plates?”

Michael nodded obediently and picked four mismatched plates from the clean and organized cabinet, and set them out on the table.

“Gavin, is that oxalis?” Jack asked and sniffed the air. A citrusy, bright aroma filled the room.

“Wood sorrel?”

Jack nodded. “Same thing. Helps with sore throats.”

“I thought it would be good with the rabbit.” Gavin said.

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “That’s a great idea! Nice find.”

Gavin blushed and brought the mortar to the table, it was filled with a strong-smelling, bright green liquid.

Michael cut the rabbit into more manageable pieces, and each of them filled their plate with meat and boiled vegetables that Jack prepared. They sat at the table together in silence at first, eating ravenously. Michael knew he was hungry but when the food was in front of him, it was hard not to shove it all in his mouth at light speed.

“Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry.” Michael commented.

“Yeah, thank you guys for going out and getting this rabbit.” Jack said. “We haven’t had real food like this in a while.”

Gavin’s mouth was full of carrot and he tried to say “You’re welcome.”, but he just coughed and gagged instead, and spit his mouthful back onto the plate.

“Fucking hell, Gavin.” Michael shouted, and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a barking laugh. Jeremy had to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t spit out his own food, laughing as he was.

Jack just shook his head, and under his breath said, “Gross.”

By the time they had finished eating, the sun was completely gone from the sky and Jack lit candles, it was comfortable and golden in the room. No one moved from their seat, they were so full and enjoying each other’s company. Gavin was telling a dramatic story of the first vampire he encountered, Michael was enraptured while Jack and Jeremy, who had obviously heard the story before, looked on amused. Gavin’s reenactment of the situation involved a lot of waving arm motions and loud noises, he was truly a theatrical storyteller.

“And that’s the story of how I killed a vampire with nothing but my wit, and a gold coin.”

“Wow.” Michael clapped slowly, and Gavin bowed. Jack rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright. Thanks for the show, Gavin.” He said sarcastically, and chuckled when Gavin stuck his tongue out at him childishly.

“You love my performances.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” Jack teased, and Gavin threw a stray piece of carrot at his head. It bounced off the side of his face onto the ground and Jack sputtered.

“Hey, we just cleaned that floor.” Jeremy whined.

“Sod off.” Gavin said hotly. Jeremy rolled his eyes.

“Anyways,” Jack cleared his throat and turned to Michael. “How are you feeling, Michael?”

Michael, surprised, said, “I’m good, actually.”

Jack smiled. “Glad to hear that. I know this is all strange for you, and with all the demon stuff going on… you’re doing really well. It’s a lot to take in.” It was a kind statement the human was not expecting, he chuckled and ran a hand through his curls.

“I’m getting used to it, I uh— thanks. You know, for like, helping me.” He said haltingly, embarrassment heated up his face.

“You don’t have to thank us, it’s no problem.” Jack said sincerely. Michael ducked his head.

“It’s nice having you here.” Jeremy chimed in, smiling warmly. 

Michael felt fondness rise in his chest and he felt more at home than he ever had, in the middle of the dark forest in a house full of faeries. It didn’t bother him to think about anymore, he knew he was safe with them. And it was nice, having people around. He had been alone for so long, living in that shack in Cirrane.

“Well  _ I _ think you’re a right prick.” Gavin announced, then squealed when Michael kicked his foot under the table.

“Hey! No violence at the dinner table!” He complained and brought his knees up to his chin, removing his exposed feet from the fray.

“Well I’m glad to see that you two settled your differences.” Jack laughed.

“Yeah, he just poked around in my brain to make sure I wasn’t trying to kill him.” Michael said pointedly, and gave Gavin another shove. 

“Alright, listen, I was just making sure.”

“And the second time?” Michael retorted, and Gavin’s mouth snapped shut and his face reddened slightly.

“Curiosity.”

Jack shook his head, and stretched his arms out. “Well, while you two figure that out, I need to get some sleep.” He stood up and began towards the staircase, then turned and mentioned, “Jeremy, Gavin— one of you show Michael to the extra room at some point.”

They each nodded obediently and a chorus of “Goodnight!” followed Jack up the stairs. 

Gavin was tracing the grain of the wood table with a long, delicate finger, the blush from his cheeks gone. He seemed resigned suddenly.

Michael pushed the base of his chair slightly with his foot, grabbing his attention. “Find anything interesting when you went rooting around in my head?” He smirked.

Gavin scoffed. “Hardly.”

Michael feigned offense and let his hand rest delicately on his chest. “I’ll have you know, genius thoughts run through this brain of mine on a pretty regular basis. Maybe you caught it at a bad time.”

“Oh, what, like that time you picked on that bull and it knocked you halfway across the field?” Jeremy teased.

“You told me to!” Michael said incredulously. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it! That farmer sure was mad, though.”

“Eh, fuck ‘im. That guy’s an asshole. He loved to shout at me on my way back from work every day that I might not make it home.”

“He accused me of stealing a calf once. Where would I even hide that?” Jeremy chuckled.

Gavin was looking at Jeremy, a carefully blank look on his face. Jeremy noticed and raised an eyebrow. Gavin just shook his head, and stood up.

“Well, I’m tired.” He smiled at Michael, it was too wide and looked forced. “Thank you for hanging out with me today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He didn’t give him time to reply before turning on his heel and marching up the stairs. It was suffocatingly quiet before a door closed upstairs.

Michael sat there, confused and shocked by his departure.

“What just happened?”

Jeremy looked at the staircase, a perplexed look on his face. He rubbed his eyes hard and sighed as he let his arms fall back onto the table.

“I fucked up, I think.”

“You guys seemed pretty fine earlier.”

An unusual blush crept onto Jeremy’s face, and Michael had to stop himself from laughing. He never knew Jeremy to blush or get embarrassed by much.

“That— ah. I don’t know why he did that.”

“What, you guys aren’t… you know. Together?” Michael asked.

Jeremy’s face reddened even more and he covered his face for a brief moment as if he could wipe it off. Michael did laugh this time, lightly.

“Come on, talk to me. I don’t care who you’re fucking, I’m just surprised is all. You never seemed interested in anyone as long as I’ve known you.” 

Jeremy still looked awkward and his hands fidgeted around. Michael gave him a shove and raised his eyebrows.

“So?”

Jeremy huffed. “It’s stupid.”

“Yeah, I would have busted your balls about it more if I knew about it, so I have to make up for it now.”

The faerie smiled now, slightly. He took a deep breath and glanced again at the stairs.

“We aren’t together. Well, not anymore. Not really. It’s complicated.”

“Go ahead.” Michael said annoyingly, and Jeremy glared.

“It doesn’t matter, really. It’s just stupid drama stuff.”

“You always had to hear about my relationship shit, I didn’t know you even had any. Let me hear it.” Michael said stubbornly. 

Jeremy shook his head and let out a small laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.” When Michael didn’t say anything, just stared expectantly, he sighed and began, “Gavin and I had a thing for a while, a long time ago, then we didn’t. It wasn’t a big deal, he went off and messed around with other fae, he’s always like that. Flirty.” He said, and laughed. “He brought an elf here once, Geoff was not happy about that.” Then, at Michael’s confused expression, added, “They steal things occasionally.”

“So why did he kiss you before?”

Jeremy’s smile disappeared and he looked flustered again. “Well, that’s the complicated part. He’s been so messed up since the attack, I think he’s just looking for something to distract himself. And I guess I’ve been lonely too, with Ryan— well, he’s been so wrapped up with this potion stuff lately.”

“Ryan?”

“Oh. Yeah, um. Ryan and I have been together for years now. It’s just been strange, with him in the lab all day and night. He always does this, he gets obsessed with that healing potion and basically disappears. It’s like he’s on a different planet.” He said bitterly.

Michael tried not to let shock show on his face. “Oh.”

“It’s just… I let Gavin get to me again. We’ve been hanging out more, and he always manages to make me flustered, like that stunt he pulled earlier. He thinks it’s funny.” Jeremy scoffed, “Ryan thinks it's funny too. Pricks.”

“So why is Gavin so mad? He was sulking earlier when we were cooking too.”

“I told him that he can’t just toy with me to feel something. It pissed him off but he’ll be fine, I’ll talk to him again tomorrow.”

Michael nodded slowly, taking it in. So, Jeremy and Ryan. He was surprised but at that point, anything could be true. Nothing made sense anyway, so he needed to start getting used to it.

“You were right. That is a significant drama.”

“Yeah, welcome to my life.” Jeremy said dramatically and sunk down in his seat.

Michael chuckled and they slipped into a comfortable silence, the only sound was the whistling breeze outside and the crackling of the small candle flames. A thought popped up in Michael’s head and he figured he should probably stop waiting to ask questions, because he was tired of being so clueless. Out of the silence he said, “Uh, Gavin and I were talking earlier and he told me that you guys have abilities? Or something, but he said you didn’t. He wouldn’t tell me more though, I’m just curious.”

Jeremy paused, then smiled softly. “I still can’t believe you got Gavin talking. That surprised me, he’s been so quiet lately. He’s finally acting more himself.”

Michael wasn’t willing to let Jeremy change the subject, he just raised his eyebrows at him. Jeremy’s smile widened and he let out a defeated laugh. “Alright, man. You’re pushin’ me for info today, Jones.”

“Don’t start calling me that, I’ll never forgive you.”

Jeremy raised up his hands in surrender, then let them fall back into his lap.

“Gavin’s right, I don’t have an ability. I used to when I was a kid, I think I could move things without touching them, but I don’t really remember. I’m— well, I  _ was _ a changeling. Whoever my fae parents were, they stole a human child and replaced him with me. So I grew up with human parents, and when my ability began showing itself they beat me. Every time I used it, they would hurt me and told me that I was a monster, that I’d be killed for using magic. They had the local church pray for me, I was exorcised a couple times; and after a while I stopped being able to call upon my power. It got harder and harder until it went away, but I was glad. I thought that they’d finally love me, but they didn’t. Ever since then, no matter how hard I try, I can’t figure out how to use it again.” He said this very matter-of-factly.

Michael blinked, and let out a soft, “Jesus.”

Jeremy shrugged. “It was a long time ago, I ran away when I was still pretty young. I travelled around with a blind witch for a while before I met these guys.”

“A blind witch.” Michael said warily.

“Yeah, she was too old and weak to do any harm to anyone. She let me tag along with her as long as I kept her from killing herself, or wandering into trouble. I stayed with her until she died of old age, I must have been ninety or so.”

Michael shook his head. “That’s awful. About your parents, I mean.”

Jeremy punched his shoulder affectionately. “It’s all good, I’m here now. If they were decent parents I wouldn’t have made it here, or met you! It doesn’t bother me much anymore.” 

“That’s true.” Michael said, smiling. He thought about what Jeremy said, and supposed that was one way to look at a tragic event. If it didn’t happen, he would be a completely different person. He thought of his own parents, and wondered what his life would be like if they were still alive.

He remembered the day his mother died when he was twelve. It was a virus that spread through their village and killed many, his mother being one of them. Michael was distraught, he remembered shaking her and crying, trying to convince her to wake up. She stayed in the house for three days after she passed, wrapped in blankets on the only bed. His father was in shock, he didn’t move from his position next to the bed; much less get up and take her body somewhere. Michael, to get away from the sight of his dead mother and destroyed father, would go outside and just sit in the cold, in their barren plot of farmland. 

When the body began to stink, his father finally roused and took her to the local church, and they buried her next to the others who had fallen ill that season. The burial was bleak and they were the only attendees, just Michael and his silent ghost of a father. He never recovered after that, and stopped tending to his farm when the warm season came and went. The next winter, almost a year after his mother’s death, Michael’s father slit his wrists in the same bed his wife died in.

Michael left shortly after, in the middle of the night. He didn’t tell anyone about his father, he just assumed someone would find him eventually. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, anyway. He hitched rides on horse-drawn wagons carrying grain and other commodities, and begged for food and shelter when he could. Eventually, he found his way to Cirrane. 

Jeremy seemed to notice that Michael was deep in his thoughts, and sat back, not forcing conversation. His own yawn broke him from his reverie and he looked around, and noticed the candles were burning low on their wicks. 

“It’s late.” He said, but made no movement to get up. His limbs were heavy, he was tired from the day’s hike and satisfied from the first full meal he had eaten in a long time.

“It is.” Jeremy said, and groaned as he stood up. His damaged leg buckled slightly at first until he shifted his weight fully onto the other one. He held out a sturdy hand for Michael to take, and he did.

They began up the stairs and Jeremy whispered, “You get a real room this time, we won’t shove you back into that closet.”

“I don’t mind, put me wherever you have room.”

“Ryan took over that closet anyway, I think it’s full of dried organs.”

Michael suppressed a shocked laugh. “Cute.”

They entered the second room on the left of a wide hallway. The walls were painted a light, sun-faded blue, and to the right of the open window was a neatly made bed with the same hand-stitched quilts as the ones that previously covered the windows in the sun room downstairs. A desk sat in the corner and on it were several books collecting dust, and a couple empty ceramic pots that most likely belonged to Ryan. A small washbasin sat next to the open, empty closet. The room wasn’t especially large but it was significantly bigger than the single room Michael lived in in Cirrane. 

“To your liking?” Jeremy asked.

Michael put a finger to his chin. “Actually, no. I require a room twice this size and at least three servants.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and leant against the doorframe. “Gavin can be your servant tomorrow, that’s my final offer.”

“Deal.” Michel grinned, and they both laughed.

A cool breeze drifted in from the window and Michael moved to close it. On a branch close to the house, he saw a large, dark crow staring at the glass of the window. It had a blue ribbon around its neck, and strangely bright blue eyes for a bird. He thought it was strange and went to tell Jeremy, but it flew away suddenly and wiped itself from Michael’s memory immediately.

“Hey, Michael.” Jeremy caught his attention and he turned. The faerie was still leant against the wall, arms crossed. He looked relaxed. “Just so you know: you can stay here as long as you want. I know everything is fucked up right now but after it’s all said and done, you don’t have to rush out of here. This room is open for you.”

Michael opened and closed his mouth, he must have looked like a fish. He was touched, and tried to shove down the uncertainty and conflict that began to rise in his stomach. He managed to choke out a pathetic-sounding, “Thank you.”, and his face reddened. Jeremy understood, he always does; and just tapped the door frame with his hand before saying goodnight, and disappearing around the corner.

Michael sat down on the bed and looked at the wide, blank wall in front of him. He imagined the rest of the faeries sleeping, tucked into bed in rooms outside his door. He felt comforted by their presences, and let a small feeling of hope bubble in his chest. 

Maybe things would be alright.


	9. Nine

Barbara always loved to fly.

Her dark, feathered wings beat up and down with thunderous power and she felt a burst of glee when she dipped and swayed with the random gusts of wind. It felt like dancing, and her lithe body glided through the blue sky. 

She saw another shape coming her way, it was a small swallow. Separated from its group, it floated with small wings held aloft, almost nervous. The small flap of its pathetic wings created a vibration in the air that Barbara could feel deep in her thin bones. She couldn’t very well smile in this form, but if she could, she’d be baring her teeth maliciously. 

She ducked to the left to obstruct the swallow’s path, and it flailed in panic briefly. As she neared she heard its overactive heart hammering in its chest and it dove down to avoid her. She would have laughed, she knew that she was twice as fast and twice as large as this bird, and she could kill it with a single touch if she really wanted to.

It flew down and she leisurely let her wings slow to a stop until she began to fall, beak-first, nose-diving like a rocket. She caught up and saw the reflective, blue feathers on the small bird’s back, easily pierced by her strong, dark nails. She felt the bones and tissue part around her talons and the shocked, pained trill the swallow exuded before it began to thrash, too late. Barbara squeezed her digits and felt another crunch, and knew that she punctured something important when the bird promptly went limp and released one last weak sound before it dangled from her crushing grip. 

Satisfied, she began flying again and let the swallow go. It dropped like a rock from the sky and landed somewhere in the wild, dark forest below her. Maybe some scavenger would find it and eat it, she didn’t really care. 

She had been flying for ages, finally not posted up outside of a house filled with disgustingly domestic faeries. She was beginning to grow tired of watching them play house, joking around and cooking dinner; as if any of it mattered. She would fly around the nearby forests at night when they were asleep, listening for any chatter among its creatures that may indicate that anyone really knows what’s going on. 

All dark creatures received a mental summons from the boss, although the connection was fuzzy. She heard it too, months before; that there was a human by the name of Michael Jones who held the power to resurrect their true leader, and bring back the dark age that was so prosperous. That was it for a while, and demons, as well as other intelligent life like vampires, witches, and the like, scrambled to find the human. It proved more difficult because humans have grown so suspicious of outsiders, it was hard not to draw attention to themselves.

Barbara knew she would be the one to find him. She had the ability to blend in wherever she went, and most humans forgot about her as soon as she was out of sight. She traveled around for weeks, across three kingdoms, and finally found him in a small rural town. He was shockingly normal and simple, she thought she had the wrong human at first. 

As soon as she laid eyes on him, reverberations and static began echoing in her head and she heard it; a dark, powerful voice rang, although it was broken and hard to understand.

“Follow…. Watch them. Faeries— he will. Listen… I will summon you.”

She could do nothing else but fall to her knees, trying her best to find the mental will and power to reply, “I will do it. You will have your true form back.”

Finally, after months of following that boring human around and gathering information about his illegal faerie consorts, she was summoned. There was no voice, but an inexplicable knowledge of where to go. It was a small seaside cave on the edge of the next kingdom, not reachable by any human or unwanted creature.

She knew she was close, and began beating her wings harder, wanting them to carry her as fast as possible. This form, a black crow; served her well in spying as well as traveling, it would be more of a pain to get to this hideout if she couldn’t fly. The blue ribbon around her small neck flapped noisily in the wind. 

She could see the edge of land and the clear, blue ocean beyond that and excitement made her heart pound and energy flow through her small body. 

As she neared the mouth of the cave she slowed down and heard the deep chatter of many voices coming from the hideout. She rustled her feathers and flipped her head around to reposition her ribbon, then flew around the corner to the entrance. 

Many eyes were fixed on her as she landed on the dusty, rocky floor and promptly returned to her natural form. Her blonde hair dropped in tendrils around her shoulders and she wore a long blue dress she stole from a shop in some royal city. She immediately felt powerful when the creatures around her widened their eyes at her shapeshifting. She smirked at a demon she recognized, Elyse, who gave her a knowing look from where she stood pressed against the wall. 

“Who are you?” One of them asked, he was tall and strong-looking, with a square jaw and one large, clawed, red hand. Poor guy couldn’t even transform his whole body, what a disappointing ability. 

“Who are _you_?” Barbara retorted and laughed when he huffed, annoyed and surprised at her mouth. He exchanged a look with another demon who was at his side, with giant blue eyes and a nervous composure. He stood close to Elyse.

Everyone else in the cave just looked on as he said, gruffly, “Adam. Kovic.” He put emphasis on the last name as if it was important. She just shrugged. 

“Whatever. I have information.”

Adam scoffed and crossed his arms, stepping closer between Barbara and the tight-knit group standing around something in the back of the cave. She couldn’t see through the bodies.

“What information do you have that could possibly mean anything to—”

“Sorry, who are you again? I’m not here to talk to you, whoever you are.”

He looked taken aback, then quickly became angry. “You young demons don’t even know what’s happening here. You think because you can shapeshift you’re tough shit, how’d you even know to come here?” He spat, getting more in her face. 

Barbara didn’t move, just crossed her arms and waited patiently for him to stop shouting. “Are you done?” She asked calmly, and felt satisfaction bloom in her chest when his face reddened and he opened his mouth to yell again. 

A voice appeared in Barbara’s brain, through a loud, punctuated static that made her shrink back, everyone else in the room seemed to hear it too. Everyone flinched and stood erect, listening for orders or anything.

“—here. Come.” The voice was splintered and quiet, but still commanding somehow. Adam ducked and stepped back, his face was twisted as he stood with his shoulder blades pressed against the scraggly rock wall.

The crowd of creatures huddled at the back of the cave moved in sync, they parted just enough for one person to walk through them. The witches standing around the small make-shift bed had their hands floating steadily, palms down, muttering incantations. Below them in the bed, wrapped in a ratty, discolored blanket, was a thin, pale child. His hair was long and dirty and plastered to his forehead, the skin was translucent and blue spiderweb veins were visible. His eyes were mostly closed, but Barbara could see the pupils moving furiously beneath the surface and every once in a while the child’s arm twitched violently and he took small, gasping breaths. 

The sight was wonderful, he was struggling to live at all. The witches must have been performing some kind of stabilizing spell, keeping his organs working just well enough. She knew he was the source of the voice in her head.

“I have information about the human and those faeries he is with.” She said quietly, head bowed. She saw the white nail beds on the child’s hand, and the thick, ropy veins struggling to pump blood to his extremities.

A pleased sigh rang in her head and she couldn’t help the smile that split her face in half.

“Good.” The voice said, darkness lining the word.

“The human, Michael— he’s nothing. Powerless, he is easily swayed and frightened by magic and has no surviving family. He wouldn’t be hard to capture, but the faeries… they’re abominations. They’ve grown attached to him. It’s strange— they live like humans. None of them are particularly powerful though, and Geoff Ramsey is weak.”

A whisper floated through the room at that, and Barbara looked back to see an excited gleam in Adam’s eyes.

“That… good news— The human… —ing them to me. You.” The voice said brokenly, and the crowd around them widened some more. Adam drew closer, and two others trailed close behind him. 

“We can bring the teeth to you, no problem.” Adam said confidently.

“Alive. They… need to be— ive. Get it… this time.”

Adam nodded and opened his mouth to speak but a frustrated noise came from behind him. The blue-eyed demon who cowered before now stood straight up, a kind of panic in his eyes. Barbara took a step back, surprised.

“Get what? This is crazy, we don’t even know what we are doing. We don’t know what to get! This human, what does he even have to do with anything?”

Adam’s eyes were wide and furious and he didn’t turn to face the other demon.

“James, what are you saying. Stop.” He said intensely, voice steady and low.

“What? If we can’t do this I get sent to Astuk! Of _course_ you’re fine with it, nothing will happen to _you_ if we fail. You don’t know—” He was cut off by a loud ringing noise in all of their ears like a siren, it was crackling and unbearable.

Barbara took another staggering step backward, clutching her head. She couldn’t believe how James was behaving, she was waiting for his judgment to come.

When the ringing stopped everyone stood still, holding their collective breath. James’ eyes were wider than ever, his legs seemed to tremble. _What a pathetic excuse for a demon_ , Barbara thought.

“Come.” The voice said simply, a certain softness present that was in some way comforting, in another way horrifying. 

James stepped forward, past Adam, past Barbara, to stand in front of the sickly child. He waited, his lip caught between his teeth. His hands were balled into fists and his muscles were tensed, he was expecting something horrible to happen. He wasn’t wrong.

It happened so suddenly but Barbara was not surprised, she didn’t even flinch. James’ skin began glowing a bright red, and he made a shocked noise when he noticed. Before he could do anything else, the red glow became a blinding light and James was reduced to a pile of black, foul-smelling salt on the ground. 

The room was in shock. Adam looked, eyebrows raised but ultimately unimpressed, at the pile next to his feet. After a moment Elyse pushed through the crowd and her hands came up to her mouth. She screamed as she dropped to her knees, a loud, grief-stricken wail that echoed around the cave and seemed even louder than the voice in their heads that said, emotionless, “Leave.”

Barbara walked backwards from the fray as the witches crowded around the child once more, and Elyse, crying; furiously attempting to collect the salt in her cupped hands. 

Adam appeared in front of her just as she was about to transform back into a crow, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He smiled joylessly.

“See you there, then.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, try not to fuck up this time. You got all those faeries on the lookout, they’re expecting you.”

Adam’s jaw tightened and Barbara smiled sweetly. He frowned and promptly sunk into the ground, leaving nothing but a black, scorched patch of rock where he once was. She nodded, finally impressed. Now _that_ was an ability, better than the singular cursed hand.

As she felt feathers start to grow from her skin and her body began to fold and shrink, she reveled in Elyse’s pained cries. She felt pity, but only for the other demon’s weakness. 

Before she could take off, she heard the voice once more in her head, seemingly private this time. Darkly, it said; “Make the human… doubt.”

She smiled and saluted, then the cold ocean air carried her out of the cave and she began to fly once more, back in the direction of that old house in the woods.

  
  
  
  


The loud clanging of swords filled Michael’s ears and he tensed his body, expecting the sharp metal to meet with his flesh. It never did, Gavin was unexpectedly nimble and practiced with a sword. He expertly blocked the swings Michael took, and pushed him back until his shoulders knocked against a large tree. The sun shone directly in his eyes and he closed them, exhausted.

“Okay, okay! I surrender!” Michael gasped, and almost fell to his knees when Gavin let up, a toothy smile on his face.

It was their fourth day in a row practicing, and Michael’s body was sore from the exercises and training Gavin was putting him through. He was happy to do it, however; he was done feeling useless and terrified that anything would be able to easily overpower him if given the chance. 

“You’re doing lovely, Michael, we can be done for today.” Gavin said. His forehead was dry and he breathed easily, hopping energetically from foot to foot.

“Thank...you.” Michael panted and sheathed his sword. The movement sent a dull ache through his arm and he sighed, trying to force more oxygen into his lungs. That was one of the longer faux-battles they have done, but Michael was proud of how long he held Gavin off.

“You two done?” A deep voice called. Michael stiffened and whipped his head around, but it was just Ryan leaning against the side of the house. He was wearing simple clothes, and they weren’t wrinkled and stained with god-knows-what anymore, like they had been the numbered times Michael had seen him in the past few weeks.

Michael smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, and Ryan returned the greeting. His posture was relaxed and Michael was surprised to see him not rushing around looking for some ingredient or the other.

“Ryan!” Gavin cheered, and launched himself at the other faerie. Ryan caught him easily in his arms and they embraced for a moment.

Michael was surprised at their closeness given what Jeremy told him about his history with each of them, but ignored it in favor of standing still and catching his breath. They exchanged a few words that Michael didn’t catch and laughed, then Gavin waved Michael over.

“Come here, boi!” He called, and Michael felt an absurd tightness in his chest. He jogged over and Gavin pulled him the last foot or so by his sleeve. “Rye, you have to show us. Michael will get a kick out of it!”

“What?” Michael asked.

Ryan chuckled and narrowed his eyes at Gavin. “It’s a little much, don’t you think?”

Gavin shook his head aggressively. “Anything is better than that bloody health potion, show us what you have!”

Ryan rolled his eyes, but that easy smile still graced his lips. He turned his gaze to Michael, his face filled with a timid excitement. He raised his eyebrows. “Want to see something interesting?”

Michael nodded emphatically. “Fuck yeah I do!”

Gavin grinned devilishly and pumped his fist, and Ryan led them back into the house. On the way up the stairs, Ryan explained, “I’m taking a break from the potion for now, my last batch didn’t work so well. It turned my subject into a pile of viscera, not exactly what I wanted.” He said casually, and Michael swallowed his fear. He was growing nervous, he had never seen inside Ryan’s lab. The other faeries mentioned it often, Geoff often with a displeased tone. He couldn’t imagine what might be inside.

They ascended the staircase and walked to the end of the long hallway past Michael’s room with its door ajar, to the last door on the right. Ryan unlocked it with an intricate key he produced from his pocket and pushed it open, holding his arm out to usher Michael and Gavin inside. 

It was dark in the room but Michael could sense that it was a large space, and he could see the outlines of furniture all around. He felt Gavin press to his side and he muttered, “Just wait, this will be top.”

He heard a click behind him and suddenly the room lit up, something lit every candle in the room simultaneously. The candelabras attached to the walls were large, golden lions that held two large candlesticks in each of their mouths and lit the room up marvelously. There were desks and bookshelves against every wall piled high with various objects, but they seemed to be meticulously organized. The books on the shelves, unlike the ones in the rest of the house, were neatly placed and followed a certain order. The vials and tinctures that covered the desks were labelled and sat straight up in their stands, and all the equipment around them was strange and futuristic as it was polished.

Michael had never seen a place quite like it. There were taxidermied animals high up on shelves, next to ghost-like wet specimens, and two strange skeletons that looked vaguely human, but the skulls were rippled and the legs were unsettlingly long. He felt light-headed at the sight and vaguely existential, that is almost what he looked like on the inside. It was fascinating and overwhelming, the amount of mind-blowing items that pulled Michael’s attention around the room.

The place was neat in general but there was a note of chaos, there were many empty spots in the bookshelves and some were knocked over. The small drawers that covered an entire wall, artfully illustrated as to what its contents were; were mostly pulled out or missing entirely. Herbs and dried sprigs of strange, colorful plants were scattered on the ground. Papers were stacked up on desks, tacked to the wall, or crumpled up in heaps on the ground.

Ryan walked easily past them and, noticing Michael’s slack jaw and bug eyes, looked bashful suddenly. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s a bit cluttered in here, I haven’t had much time to clean yet.”

“It’s fine, Ryan, what’s new to show us?” Gavin asked. He seemed familiar with the room, he delicately swabbed a finger on one of the sharp, metal contraptions as he walked over nearer to Ryan. Michael slowly followed, still attempting to take everything in. It smelled clean in there, like everything had been rubbed down with alcohol. Even the wood floor that seemed so old and weathered throughout the rest of the house was straight, spotless, and didn’t make a sound when they walked on it.

Ryan nodded as if Gavin reminded him why he brought them in there. “Oh, yes. Follow me.” He walked to the corner of the room where there was a tall row of cabinets that had thin half-doors covering them.

He opened one and revealed a dark tunnel, and Gavin perked up.

“When did you do this?” He asked, amazed. He edged forward curiously, sticking an arm past the threshold as if to see if it was painted on the wall. It wasn’t.

Michael held back again. He shook his nerves, and listened when Ryan said, “Eh, over the past few weeks. Between research for the potion.” He sounded proud, Gavin was obviously giving him the reaction he expected.

“This is amazing! Expanding spell?”

Ryan clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Childsplay. Enchantress’ ring. It’s a portal.”

Gavin squawked in excitement and bounced on his heels before the door. “Are we going in?”

“This isn’t even what I’ve been working on.” Ryan said suavely, and Gavin cocked his head like a curious dog.

“There’s something _better_? What are you, a bloody portal-skipper now?”

“What is happening.” Michael said, unable to wrap his head around what he was looking at. The house absolutely was not big enough in that direction to allow that tunnel to exist. It looked like it went on forever. Everything around him was strange enough, but when they began talking about spells and rings, his brain recoiled.

Gavin turned to him and smiled condescendingly. “Magic, Michael.”

“Don’t be a dick. Let’s just go in.” Michael huffed, and crossed his arms.

Ryan waved Gavin in first, and he jumped in fearlessly with a running start. He disappeared into the darkness and his footsteps immediately ceased, it was like he vanished into thin air. Michael looked around and squinted his eyes but he couldn’t see or hear the faerie anymore.

Ryan seemed to notice his hesitation, and gave a reassuring smile. “It’s really fine, you just walk in like normal and you will appear in another room. Gavin’s already there and I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s a portal?” He asked, trying to gather up courage to go into the dark, impossible space.

“It’s a fixture that links specific points in space, and by scattering your atoms—”

“Okay, okay. Dumb version please.” Michael interrupted. Ryan shook his head, chuckling. 

“It’s like a walkway to somewhere else. You’ll see, just go on in.”

Michael took a deep breath and forced his legs to walk forward until he was enveloped by darkness. For a few seconds, it was just like he was walking in a black room. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed, but soon the ground fell from under him. He braced himself for impact, but instead of falling there was just nothing, it was like he was floating weightlessly. He was still moving his legs as if he was walking, and found that he couldn’t make himself stop.

Panic enveloped his brain for a second, then the darkness melted away and he saw a room.

Gavin stood there, back to him, poking around at the strange artifacts in front of them.

Michael had to reorient himself, his heart was still racing from his brief panic in that other place. When he looked around, he noticed they were in a wide room with short walls and no windows. There was no ceiling, but a vast, empty blackness like there was inside the portal. The space was perfectly lit but there was no source, it was an even, white light that allowed everything to exist.

There was a large platform in the center of the room with a huge, monstrous metal cage on top. The metal looked like burned, warped scraps and remains attached to each other. Some were rusted and crumbling, soldered to another piece that looked newer and more polished. The construction came to a point that reached up into the darkness like a spire.

Gavin turned to him and Michael could hear the clothes shifting on his body. Every sound in that place was amplified, he could hear the sizzling of his own stomach acid and the wet sliding of his eyes moving in their sockets. He felt overstimulated immediately.

“How was the trip?” Gavin asked, a smirk planted on his face. Michael wanted to hit him.

“Where the fuck are we? Why am I so loud?” He winced at his own words, he thought he was speaking normally but it sounded like he was screaming at the top of his lungs.

“You’re always loud.” Gavin said. Michael glared at him and he laughed that bell of a laugh and continued, “You need to think quieter. You’re hearing your voice and your thoughts on top of each other, it just sounds loud to you.”

“Think quieter? That’s ridiculous.” Michael said. He pressed on his ears trying to get them to stop ringing.

Gavin raised his hands up as if to surrender, and continued poking around.

Michael, although it felt silly, tried to concentrate on his thoughts. They were running a mile a minute, he was confused and frightened and impressed by the otherworldly things he was looking at. He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, trying to quiet the blistering cacophony that rang in his brain and prevented him from thinking straight.

After a few moments it seemed to work, the volume and severity of the phantom noises of his body lessened until he could only hear the tapping of Gavin’s shoes against the smooth, polished floor. 

“What do you think?” Ryan’s voice appeared next to him and he opened his eyes, thankful for Gavin’s advice. He could finally hear through the tangled thoughts and feelings running through his brain.

“It’s incredible.” Michael said in awe, finally able to appreciate what he was looking at. This room was minimal compared to the lab, there was no clutter or large, intertwining equipment here. There was the cage, and two large, ancient-looking wood carvings in separate corners, facing the cage. They seemed to be of the same man with long, straight hair and cavernous eyes, and six arms. The proportions were off, the legs were slightly too long and the arms were bent at unnatural angles. One statue had his eyes open, the others were closed. There was a single table between them that had something laid out under a sheet.

“It’s wicked, Rye. What are the blokes for?” Gavin asked and cocked his head towards the statues. He neared the table and Ryan cleared his throat.

“I wouldn’t go near that if I were you. Not yet.”

Gavin, eyes wide, took a large step back.

“What is it?” He asked, craning his neck forward as if he would be able to see. His curiosity was never-ending, it seemed.

A clever smile spread across Ryan’s face and he brushed past Michael to the side of the cage. He pulled at one of the thick bars and it rattled, but stayed put.

“I got the statues from an acquaintance centuries ago, they are supposed to guide souls to the afterlife. I found that they respond well to spells.”

“What are you doing with them, though?” Michael asked.

Ryan smiled and skirted around the question, Michael figured he was enjoying the confusion and playing up the theatrics of the situation. “I suppose now is as good a time as any, I haven’t tried it yet with anything bigger than a possum.”

Michael’s interest was piqued and he scooted closer to Gavin as Ryan rested a large hand on top of the linen covered object on the table. Gavin gave him an excited grin and Michael tried to return it, but he was still nervous and overwhelmed.

Ryan ripped the sheet off the table and under it laid a body with gray, lifeless skin and glassy blue eyes that stared up at the ceiling. Michael staggered backwards immediately, bile rising in his throat.

“Ryan, what the fuck?” He gasped, and suppressed the urge to heave right there.

Ryan extended a placating hand, something amused in his eye. Gavin didn’t seem disturbed, he looked even more curious now.

“It’s a vampire, it’s fine. Got it from a friend of ours.” 

Michael shook his head and stared at the ground, crouched down low. His stomach flipped and he couldn’t get its twisted, stiff face out of his head. He felt a hand on his back and it was Gavin, standing over him with a sympathetic smile.

“It’s pretty gnarly, I’ll admit.” He said. His warm hand on Michael’s back was distracting, and even more so when he moved his fingers around in gentle circles. He turned back to Ryan, “What do you need a corpse for, you sick bastard?”

“Reanimation.” He nearly squealed, Michael looked up to see the pure elation on Ryan’s face. His eyes were bright as he gazed down at the corpse, then he quickly danced away to fiddle with the apparently movable limbs of the statues.

“You’re going to bring it back to life?” Gavin asked, amazed. 

“Hopefully, I brought a possum back a couple weeks ago and it lived for three hours. I tweaked the spell, hopefully this’ll work better.”

Michael stood up again, trusting himself not to vomit. He kept his vision pointedly turned away from the body, it looked a little too human-like for his tastes, and the sight of death deeply disturbed him. He just thought of the dead eyes of his father the day he died, and the rotting smell his mother emitted.

“Give me a hand, would you?” Ryan asked, and Gavin jumped to help. They lifted the table and brought it into the cage, and set it down in the center. Ryan covered the body again and Michael let himself relax, but he was shocked at the morbid endeavor.

“Why would you want to bring back a vampire? Won’t it, you know, try to kill us?” Michael asked, skeptical.

Ryan tugged down two thick ropes that were attached to the top of the cage and roughly tied them around the creature's bony, limp wrists. When he turned to Michael his expression was wild. “I’m also working on a cure for vampirism. If this works— and it should— I’ll finally have a test subject. Vampires are so hard to capture, and they die so quickly. But if I can just bring this one back…” He drifted off and got distracted by his preparations, but he clapped loudly on his way back over to the statues. He caressed the smooth, painted wood and continued, “I’m glad you two are here to see this. This could be it! I’ve been toying with this idea for years, but I never thought it was possible. Imagine— we could bring a creature back from the dead. A biological reset button!”

Michael looked at Gavin, who was staring down at the covered body. His expression that was so excited and curious before was turning sour. He slipped out of the cage and returned to Michael’s side.

Quietly, Michael nudged him and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Gavin shook his head and forced a smile. “Let’s just see if this works, yeah?”

Michael didn’t push it, but noticed the furrow in the faerie’s brow and the way he absently ran his hand up and down his scarred neck, a nervous habit.

Ryan pushed the bars he removed back into place, locking the body in. He flashed a charming grin their way and pulled a worn piece of paper out of his breast pocket. It looked like it had been folded and unfolded many times, the edges were bent and tearing.

He cleared his throat. “You ready?” He asked.

Michael and Gaivn nodded silently.

Ryan took a long, deep breath, and began; voice smooth and dark like honey.

_“O nameless spirits; leaders, protectors, bringers of hope and direction—_

_You float past the barrier of this life to the next with ease._

_Darkness and light are the same, as are life and death._

_The barrier before you, with its reflections and fragmented parts of a life;_

_It sings and calls to you, it urges your hands forward._

_Pull from it the flesh and bone, the sinew and blood that make this body whole._

_Pull from it the soul, the memories and thoughts of this being,_

_From this life to the next, and back again._

_I urge you to return this creature to this reality, to grace this body with vitality._

_Spirits of life, spirits of death; and the endless cycle of each._

_The barrier is open.”_

Michael felt transfixed the entire time Ryan spoke, as if the words were pulling something deep within him. As he spoke the last syllable, the arms of the statues that were so meticulously positioned fell limp with a resounding clatter.

It was silent in the room. Michael lost track of his thoughts for a moment and everything was off balance, he could hear the smallest noises again. The relaxing lullaby of blood cells being created in his bones spurred him, he wrestled with his brain and tried to get himself under control. It nearly sent him over the edge when Gavin, in anticipation, grabbed Michael’s forearm. All he could hear was their skin grating against each other, and his thoughts were suddenly Gavin.

He was distracted and in a daze when the body in the cage jerked violently, once, under the sheet. It did not move again, and Ryan’s disappointment could be felt from across the room.

“I don’t understand.” He muttered, scanning over his spell written out on the paper.

Michael forced his thoughts down once again and tried to stay in the moment, he made his legs move forwards towards the cage. Moving made it easier to ignore the sounds. He peered through the bars at the corpse, it was not moving. One of the hands escaped the rope holding it up and it slipped down, dangling off the side of the table from its final lurch.

Ryan folded his spell up and slipped it into his pocket once more. His frustration and disbelief were gone and he looked neutral once more.

“These things happen. I’ll have to keep working on this spell, there is progress to be made!” He flashed his straight, white teeth and gave the room a once over. “Let’s return to the lab, shall we?”

“What about the body?” Michael asked. 

Ryan waved his hand dismissively. “It will be fine there, nothing can spoil in this place.”

Gavin shrugged and walked nonchalantly back into the dark portal with no comment. Michael rushed to follow him. The journey back was not as scary, he knew what to expect that time, and he appeared back in Ryan’s lab. Gavin was sitting at one of the many desks in the room, staring down at an assortment of papers laid out with one long string of letters written across all of them.

“Weird.” Michael said. Gavin looked up and a small smile appeared on his face.

“What, the lab?”

“All of it.” Michael looked around at all the foreign equipment around him. “I feel like I’m in another world, I’ve never seen anything like it. And that… in there.” He left it at that, struggling to articulate his thoughts.

Gavin nodded. “Seeing Ryan’s spells in action is a treat.” His voice sounded far-off and his eyes wandered, he was preoccupied.

“Sorry you two, nothing spectacular this time.” Ryan’s voice came from behind them, he stepped nonchalantly out of the cupboard and dusted himself off.

“That was pretty spectacular.” Michael said. “This whole place— it’s amazing!”

Ryan chuckled and nodded in thanks, Gavin rolled his eyes and crossed his long legs. “Don’t stroke his ego.”

Ryan ignored him and brushed past them to the drawers of herbs, pulled a couple out, and plucked a few sprigs from each. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to harvest some polyclover. They blossom today, but only for a short amount of time.” He smiled and beckoned them to the door. When they were all out in the hallway, he closed and locked the door and slipped away down the hallway.

Michael made his own way to the kitchen, and filled a cup with cool water from the pitcher. His lips and throat felt so dry from his day-long training. Gavin was close behind him and stood chewing on the side of his thumb as Michael drank.

“What’s your deal?” Michael asked finally, done with Gavin’s moodiness.

“I don’t have a deal.” He said.

Michael rolled his eyes and set the cup down. “Fine.” And he started towards the door.

“Wait— Michael! Where are you going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!”

Gavin let out an irritated huff but couldn’t help himself, he would follow Michael anywhere. Outside, Michael snatched up his sword from the ground where they were training and swung around to meet the faerie, who stopped in his tracks when he noticed the determined gleam in Michael’s eyes.

“One more round?”

The smile that lit up Gavin’s face made something in Michael’s chest pull, but he pushed it viciously to the side. Gavin retrieved his own blade and they sparred until the sun set low on the horizon, and Jack returned from Hollyhead.

He shook his head when he saw them, obviously exhausted and drenched with sweat, slowly and sloppily clashing their swords together. They were laughing, sometimes too hard to swing their swords properly.

Michael felt fatigue deep in his bones but he couldn’t bring himself to ask to stop, and after seeing Gavin laugh; properly, with fits of squeaking and seizing limbs— he didn’t want to. He’d continue all night if Gavin would just keep laughing.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all doing well right now, and you're healthy and safe.  
> enjoy this chapter, thank you for reading and keeping up with this story.

As soon as Michael’s eyes flitted open, the hair stood up on the back of his neck and he was thrown into a panic.

He had woken up in the house for a couple of months at that point, but never had an immediate, primal fear gripped him upon waking. He took several deep breaths and rubbed his eyes, attempting to quell the absolutely  _ wrong _ feeling that sat heavy in his gut. Nothing in his room looked out of place, he couldn’t recall a nightmare that would explain his instant fear— once his heart stopped hammering in his chest he figured it was just an occurrence, nothing to concern himself with. 

He reluctantly pulled the blankets off himself and exposed his skin to the cool air of the bedroom, and stretched his now-toned arms and sore legs from running laps around the house with Jeremy the day before. His neck cracked pleasantly and he rolled his shoulders, attempting to force life back into his muscles.

He stood up and crossed the worn, textured floor to the washbasin and washed his face and arms, the cool water dripped into the bowl and he closed his eyes, reveling in the peaceful morning. He figured no one was awake, he would have heard them if they were. 

There was a small stack of clothes on the ground in his closet and he smiled, every once in a while he would find a new article placed neatly on his bed with no indication of who it was from. He knew it was mostly Jack, probably getting them from some shop in Hollyhead. There was one long, brown cloak draped on a piece of outstanding wood that Geoff handed him one day with a wink, and said he’d be needing it. It had fine red stitching and deep pockets, and a large hood that could obscure most of his face, along with matching brown leather boots. When they were given to him Michael tried to refuse, embarrassed, but Geoff just rolled his eyes and dropped them at his feet.

“Take ‘em or not, kid.” He said, and smirked when Michael huffed in defeat and picked them up.

He was grateful that he had warm clothing that wasn’t moth-bitted and stained, and shoes without holes and cracks in the soles. He was confused by their generosity but ultimately he stopped questioning it. It was beginning to feel natural, his being there.

He got dressed for the day, and as he pulled on his shoes he peered through a crack in the curtains to survey the morning, and his heart stopped painfully in his chest. Outside, crowded near the front door, were a few dozen figures, just standing staring at the house. He felt frozen to the spot for a moment, horror cementing his legs and preventing his brain from moving forward.

He took a staggering step backward after the spell broke, and tripped over his own feet as he raced down the hallway to Geoff’s room. He hammered on the door, dread building in his heart.

He heard feet hit the ground immediately and Geoff swung the door open, fully clothed with shoes on. His eyes were almost completely closed and a frown decorated his face. Before he could sneer, or shout; Michael shook his head violently and brought a finger to his lips.

“Geoff, there are about fifty motherfuckers outside right now.”

Geoff’s eyes snapped open and he cocked his head to the side, alarmed. 

“What? Like… bad guys?”

“Yeah, fuckin’ bad guys! What do you think?” Michael hissed. He felt a bit bad, he hadn’t really seen Geoff much lately, he was always either locked in his room or gone, sometimes for days at a time.

He had wanted to go see Ray, a fae friend of theirs who was known as the Striker in Dawsbury. Michael recognized the name as a serial killer that he heard about since he was a child. Geoff explained that humans believed he was killing at random, and that anyone could be a victim; but he strictly killed demons. He wasn’t discreet about it either, he was known to decapitate a demon in broad daylight with an audience if necessary. Michael heard the gruesome stories, he was well versed.

Geoff figured he would know more about what they were up against than anyone, but he was sick so often, and Jack insisted that he not go himself. They sent another fae they knew, Fiona, to find Ray and bring back as much information as she could about a fortnight ago. She was due back soon.

Geoff, since she left, has been a little less bright, a little less himself. He still went out on his missions but refused to bring anyone with him. He would come back with small amounts of gold, or food, or tea and spices, but dumped them on a table without a word, and disappeared again. Either he went on mission after mission, or he locked himself in his room for days on end where no one could reach him. Even Jack, who seemed to be the only person who could sway Geoff to do anything; was powerless to help. Michael noticed the slump in his shoulders, and the smile that seemed less genuine every day. Geoff’s condition seemed to affect him the most.

Now Geoff stood in front of Michael, rubbing his eyes and blinking furiously, trying to right himself.

“Go look, but don’t move the drapes.” Michael urged, pushing him back into the dark room towards the window. Geoff pushed his face against the wall to see outside past the rough edge of the fabric in front of his window and his sharp blue eyes widened when he noticed the creatures.

“Shit.” He swore, and backed up again. “Shit, shit.” He repeated.

“Why are they here?” Michael asked, but he figured he already knew the answer.

Geoff grimaced. “Hopefully house hunting?”

Michael snorted but shook his head, fear buzzing in his skull. Geoff sighed deeply and coughed once, loudly, then exited to the hallway. He knocked on the two doors at the end of the hall, and said, “Wake Gavin up, would you?”

Michael nodded and approached Gavin’s door, the one closest to the stairs. He knocked, rapping his knuckles loudly on the wood. He heard a groan, then nothing. He rolled his eyes and pushed the door open, letting light spill onto the bed where Gavin slept, now with his head buried under his pillow.

Michael crossed the room and shook Gavin’s shoulder. “You need to get up, there are… things outside. Monsters.”

Gavin pulled the pillow off his face and sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. His blond hair stuck up at all angles and Michael suppressed the urge to lay it flat for him. The shirt he wore to sleep had a wide collar that slipped down over one of his shoulders, exposing his collarbone and that nasty scar.

“What’s happening?”

“You heard me, just get the fuck up.” 

His eyes fully opened and he seemed to register the breathless panic in Michael’s voice, because he shot up out of bed in a flurry of motion.

“How many? What are they?” He asked, dressing quickly.

“Fifty probably, I don’t know.”

Gavin looked around and his eyes landed on his swords, standing up in a corner in their sheaths. He walked by Michael and dropped to his knees, searching through them.

“You need a weapon Michael— here.” He picked up one of the swords, it was about twenty five inches and contained in a tanned leather sheath. “Take this, go find Geoff.” He spoke urgently and Michael could only nod and rush downstairs.

He found Geoff pacing anxiously in the kitchen. He had closed the door to the sunroom because the creatures were standing around the front of the house, but apparently none in the back.

Geoff walked back and forth from the woodstove to where Michael sat at the table, nervously chewing the skin around his thumbnail. The faerie muttered to himself and rubbed his hands together. He looked ill, more than normal; his skin was pale, his eyes were dull and the bags underneath them were dark purple. 

“Sit down, you’re freaking me out.” Michael said.

Geoff didn’t react, just continued to pace.

“Fuckin’ demons outside. There are so many, this is really bad. I haven’t seen this many band together in a long time, who’s leading them? They always have a leader! They’re demons from hell but can’t do shit without someone telling them to. Maybe if I— oh, yes. That might work on some of them, if I can manage it—”

Geoff’s rambling was cut short by footsteps coming down the stairs, it was Gavin. He came down ready, his linen tunic was covered by a dark cape and he looked like a vagabond. His boots were strapped, and a thin white fabric bandage was wrapped around his neck up to his jaw, as were his wrists. Michael could see the hilt of his sword poking from beneath the fabric. His face was serious and twisted with something when he laid eyes on Geoff, he was worried.

“Geoff, what’s going on?” He asked, and sat delicately in the chair next to Michael.

“I don’t know, I can’t figure out how they even got here. I cast a spell— it was supposed to steer everything away from this place but obviously that didn’t fucking work.” He said bitterly, peeking anxiously through the small window on the door to the sunroom. 

“We can take a few lousy demons.” Gavin said, trying to sound encouraging.

“They’re not like demons we have dealt with before. They actually have someone leading them now, someone is giving them purpose. The only thing worse than one demon is two, and there are about fifty out there.” Geoff said severely, one marked hand gripping the countertop. “They want Michael badly.”

That sentence made Michael’s blood run cold, he felt dizzy all the sudden. Gavin looked at him sideways, his face frozen.

“Well they’re not getting him. We’ve seen worse, Geoff. We will figure this out.” Gavin stood up and put a reassuring hand on Geoff’s shoulder, but he just stared at him, expression blank.

Again, a thunder of footsteps came down the stairs and Ryan and Jeremy were there, each looking alert and prepared to fight. Ryan had a bow and quiver holstered on his back, the bow was made of some strange material. It looked blue and smooth at one angle, and red and jagged like rock in another. Jeremy’s sword was much longer than Gavin’s, it nearly touched the ground when he walked.

Geoff looked at them and his eyebrows knitted together. “Where’s Jack?”

“Hollyhead, remember? He had to stay for a few days.” Ryan said slowly.

“I just saw him.” Geoff said quietly, his eyes drifted to the wall and they were glassy, he licked his dry lips.

Gavin and Ryan shared a grim, defeated look and Ryan sighed.

“Okay, we have to take care of this. They seem to have gathered centrally at the front of the house, so we could come at them from the sides and the back. Jeremy, you come from the right; Gavin, from the left. Geoff and I will take the back, we need to block them in.” Ryan’s voice was low and commanding.

“I have an idea.” Geoff said, leaning against the counter. His eyelids drooped closed every time he blinked, like the effort of staying awake was suddenly too much for him. Michael had seen him in a variety of states over the past couple months, but never had he looked so thoroughly exhausted; as if a breeze could carry him quietly away.

Each set of eyes that turned to him were apprehensive, but he drawled on, uncaring. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah, Geoff?” Ryan encouraged.

Geoff shook himself, then stood up straight. “Okay, there are a lot of guys out there. It’s risky to take on a large group like that, we are going to have to separate them somehow.” He rubbed his temples savagely and squeezed his eyes shut, obviously trying to bring himself back to reality. “We could scare them away, and whoever is left we fight or chase off.”

Ryan and Gavin wrinkled their noses at the same time, almost comically. “We can’t just let them get away.” Gavin argued.

“They’ll just come back with more, we have to try to contain them.” Ryan added, voice placating.

Geoff’s blue eyes widened and he got his second wind, life rushed back into his lax face and he scoffed. 

“You don’t know what we are about to deal with. None of you have seen demons in action like I have. When they have a driving force behind them— when there’s something they want, there’s no stopping them. They will curse you, they will rip you to fucking shreds. They will stop at nothing. We cannot fight all of them.” 

“How do you suppose we scare them, then?” Ryan asked and crossed his arms, faint annoyance spreading across his features. He looked unsure.

Geoff smiled grimly. “I could do it.”

Jeremy frowned. He was standing near the door, and during their conversation had just been staring out the small window, keeping an eye on the unmoving, demonic army outside the house. He looked Geoff up and down. “Geoff, you can’t be serious.” He said quietly.

“It’s fine. I’ll use my ability to scare most of them off.” Geoff explained, and took a step away from the counter. He stretched his limbs in front of him and rolled his neck, the sallow expanse of his throat looked ghostly in the early-morning light. 

“You think you’re strong enough to do that?” Ryan shot back, his jaw tense. He stood powerfully, with his legs spread apart; contrasting with Geoff’s hunched, tired posture.

“I’m fine, Ryan.” Geoff said coldly.

“You think so? That might work on Jack, but you can’t just ignore—”

Jeremy cut Ryan off and stood between them, a desperate look in his eye. “Stop it. We don’t have time for this.” He gave Ryan a meaningful look and the other faerie backed off, letting the anger slip from his expression easily. He stood up straight and stared at the wall to the right of Geoff, obviously determined not to lose face. Jeremy continued, “Geoff, you really think this’ll work?”

Geoff nodded sagely. “We can’t fight them all off at once. If we at least get them away for now, we can figure something out.”

Jeremy nodded slowly. “I think that’s our best option. There are only five of us, after all. But we have to be quick, they’ll start attracting more creatures here the longer they’re out there.”

“So what, we just fight the ones that don’t run away? Are you sure they’ll be scared off like that?” Michael asked. He was nervous, but didn’t feel as useless now that he knew fairly well how to handle himself in battle. 

“I know how to get them to run.” Geoff said ominously. He sniffed, then peered, again, out the window. “We have to get out first, hide near the sides of the house. Get in bushes, climb a tree, whatever. Just don’t be seen. I’ll use my ability, and I’ll signal when you can come out.”

“What signal?” Michael asked.

“You’ll know it when you see it. Sound good to everyone?” Geoff asked. No one moved, but Ryan made a grunt in the back of his throat, Geoff narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“What are you going to do?” Ryan’s voice was dark and suspicious.

Geoff bristled and Gavin sighed, almost inaudible. He watched them with his fists balled in his lap, he looked disappointed, but not surprised. Jeremy looked frustrated and distressed, and winced when Geoff barked, “Jesus, Ryan. There are demons outside. I know you think I’m crazy, and that I can’t do this; but we don’t have time. Bitch at me later. Let’s just go.”

Ryan shook his head dismissively and slipped out the back door without a word, and Jeremy quickly followed.

Michael stood up and nervously patted himself down, feeling his heart rate begin to accelerate. Over the past month or so he’d been training every day for most of the day, and felt pretty confident with a sword and his ability to wield it. However, now he was fighting creatures that actually wanted to do him harm. He took a deep breath and looked at Gavin, who was still sitting in the chair. Michael held a hand out to him and offered a smile.

“Ready?” 

Gavin nodded, took his hand, and pulled himself up. He held on for a moment and spared another glance at Geoff, who stared angrily at the door. Michael pulled him and they exited into the cool morning air. 

As soon as they got outside they moved quickly, hunched over as to not be seen. They went straight into the cover of the trees, where their footsteps were muffled by the thick layer of soft earth, dead leaves, and pine nettles under their feet. Michael’s breathing was fast as he kept up with Gavin, they circled the property until they had the front of the house in view, where the demons were gathered. They all stood completely still, just gazing, watchful, at the house itself. It made Michael shiver.

They approached a thick, gnarled tree and Gavin began hoisting himself up, using the thick ledges of the bark as footholds. He turned and beckoned Michael up, his face stony.

Michael looked around and, seeing that the coast was clear, followed Gavin. He hauled himself up onto the strong branches, wary of the sounds of the leaves rustling as they shook under their weight. They eventually reached a particularly wide branch about twenty feet off the ground, where Gavin perched, his body tense. Michael sidled up next to him, their legs brushing as they stared down at the ground. The foliage blocked them from view and they could just see enough to know what was happening.

It was still for a while. Michael squinted through the leaves and tried to see if he could tell where Ryan and Jeremy were hiding, just out of sight. He couldn’t.

Worries and thoughts were jumbling through his head and he could barely concentrate, until Gavin gently poked him in the cheek and everything stopped for a moment. He was sitting so gracefully, with his long legs folded underneath him. He looked like an illustration in a book, all lines and curves to make his expressive, furling body a whole. He tilted his head slightly, the gray light reflected on his eyes and the usual green turned silver. 

Gavin brought his face close and whispered, “Don’t worry Michael, we can handle this. Geoff knows what he’s doing.” The last part sounded forced, as if he was grinding it through his teeth. 

“Ryan doesn’t seem to think so.” Michael commented, and Gavin nodded, his mouth a slant.

“Everything is so strange right now, Geoff… well. You have eyes.” Gavin bit his lip and said, even quieter, “I just hope he’s strong enough to pull this off. It takes a lot of energy to use his ability on a large scale like this.”

Michael’s brow furrowed and he watched as one of the demons near the back; a figure hidden by a dark purple hood, shifted his legs slightly and furtively looked around, before stilling inhumanly once more. None of the others so much as sighed or shifted.

Suddenly, a loud noise came from inside the house. It sounded like air being sucked in, but at an explosive volume. The demons in the yard broke from their state of meditation and some took steadying steps back, surprised. There was indistinct jabbering and more unidentified noises, then the front door slammed open. The force nearly blasted it off its hinges, and the creatures nearest to the door jumped back.

A man of impressive size with blistered, red skin wearing a black military uniform stepped out into a patch of light like a spotlight trained on him. There was a blood red symbol on the breast pocket, it depicted a bird with wings outstretched surrounded by barbed wire. The man’s face, with its many sores and bleeding marks, was marred with a deep scowl. His light eyes were wild. He walked forward with a quick but off-centered gait, and stood tall in front of the group of astonished demons. 

Five other men exited the house, wearing red uniforms with the same symbol emblazoned on the front. Seconds later another loud noise shook the tree Michael and Gavin sat in. Gavin was leaning forward, enraptured by what was happening below them. Michael was half-wondering if it was true, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him. It just looked so real.

The first man, obviously a commander of some sort, opened his dark, slimy maw and with a voice that bubbled and burned like an erupting volcano, roared, “What the fuck do you pathetic excuses for demons think you are doing here?”

No one answered and the man surged forward, grabbing the closest demon by the throat. He dwarfed every creature in the hoarde around him. He screamed into his victim’s face, “Tell me what you’re doing here,  _ now! _ ” 

“I— I— we are here to— to find the teeth for— ugh.” He struggled to speak around the large hand crushing his windpipe, and eventually went silent and limp in his grip. There was a sharp crack and the man discarded the body, it crumpled on the ground and singed the grass around it. The figures around began backing up slowly, but had their eyes trained on the man’s chest. A few began saluting with their heads down, eyes trained on the grass.

“You are all guilty.” He said, his voice boomed through the forest and Michael saw birds flee the scene, fluttering up from the nearby trees. His own breath hitched in his throat. The man continued, “You are all guilty, and there is not room for that in the ranks of Corvus.”

One of the men in red uniform behind him stomped down hard on the wood of the porch and green flames flickered and licked at his boots, and began spreading. He smiled with a mouth that was too wide and displayed several rows of sharp yellow teeth. 

The leader took another step into the crowd and more of the demons started backing away. The flames grew larger, casting an eerie, supernatural light on what was unfolding. They backlit the man as he announced, voice like molten rock, “Each of you will be sent to Astuk for your crimes.”

At that, the five soldiers in red advanced, and many of the demons turned and fled, horror evident on their many faces. The green flames overtook the house quickly, and the thin roof was beginning to crumble. The paneling on the exterior of the building was flaking off in burned, ashy gray strips that scattered when they hit the ground. 

Michael watched with his mouth hanging open. Gavin looked amazed.

The demons who remained began jumping at and attacking the men, but couldn’t manage to catch them in their grips. The flames turned from a dark green to a brilliant red, and the smoke formed a large black crow in the sky. 

“That’s it.” Gavin said, shaking Michael’s arm. “That’s the signal. Let’s go.” At that, Gavin scrambled down the tree then, once he reached a lower branch, flung himself onto the ground. He landed in a roll and hopped onto his feet in one smooth, practiced motion. He whipped around and his eyes gleamed with determination, he waved Michael towards him.

Michael tried not to look like a fool as he climbed down the tree, without the added flamboyance of somersaulting on the ground. He let himself drop from the branch and met with Gavin, and they ran into the fray together. 


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready 2 FIGHT y'all!

Michael’s feet brought him closer to the brawl and he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was about to come.

Ryan and Jeremy were already fighting, Jeremy with his longsword and Ryan with his bow, expertly battling in unison as if they were one. Ryan effortlessly shot and reloaded his bow at lightning speed, dodging swipes from the demon’s own weapons; as Jeremy took care of any creatures that made it past Ryan’s shower of colorful, feathered arrows. 

As soon as Michael and Gavin drew near, they caught the attention of several other demons who immediately ran at them, eyes wild. Gavin rushed forward in front of Michael and clashed swords with one of them, while another ducked under and stormed at the human. He had dark, unfeeling eyes and a rusty blade as a weapon; which he swung wildly at Michael’s face.

He dodged every quick jab, and when the demon started to slow down, Michael pushed forward and began going in with his own offensive strikes that got close to connecting with flesh, but he was driven back before he could get there. The sound of battle was loud in Michael’s ears, the clanging of swords, shouting, grunting, and the crackling of the intense blaze that encompassed the house and cast an unnatural light on the yard. 

Michael, with the tip of his sword, caught the demon’s hand and he hissed as he faltered, and smoke rose from the wound. In that moment, Michael surged forward and buried the blade in the muscle connecting the demon’s neck to his shoulder, and he began to scream. It was a noise Michael had never heard, as if metal was being torn. It made the hair all over his body stand on end and he winced, but pushed the blade deeper.

The demon rushed forward in a blind rage and swung his blade at Michael’s face with reckless abandon, blood spurting from his wound. His mouth was agape and he continued to scream as he got closer and closer to Michael, clashing their weapons together more often and with more force. Michael ducked and moved away from his blows, trying to keep up with his random movements. The creature’s face was pock-marked and sallow and his eyes, at closer inspection, had no white in them at all. His black hair was long and plastered to his sticky skin, now stained with blood.

Smoke was billowing through the air and the acrid taste invaded Michael’s mouth and throat, he coughed as he moved fast on his feet, attempting to escape the savage and unrelenting attack. He felt a wound open on his forearm and the sleeve of his shirt parted to reveal a deep, wide gash that immediately burned as oxygen met his exposed flesh. Blood flowed down his arm and made his grip on the hilt of his sword slip, and he could only just keep the demon, with a sick smile now spreading across his face, from advancing. 

Something hit the back of his leg hard and he realized, too late, that there was someone else behind him who clubbed the back of his knees with a wooden plank. His head hit the ground and he saw their ugly faces looking down at him. The demon he was fighting lifted his blade with a triumphant cackle, but was cut short by a knife flying through the air and burying itself deep in his chest. It came from behind Michael so he couldn’t see the assailant, but was grateful when the demon, with a confused and horrified look on his face, crumpled and the other that knocked Michael down scrambled away.

His relief was short lived, for his arm was grabbed roughly, right where he was cut, and he was dragged to his feet. He howled in pain when his captor dug their fingers into the wound, he tried not to look but blood began flowing more freely down his arm and his vision almost went white.

The battling around them stopped, everyone turned their attention to them. He craned his neck to see who was holding him there and his blood froze when he recognized Adam, a cool smirk on his face. Michael tried to wrestle his arm away but Adam’s grip only tightened; his fingers slipping deeper into Michael’s stinging, aching flesh. He screamed again, then bared his teeth to cut it short. His legs buckled but Adam kept him upright.

Gavin’s face, splattered with enemy blood, was pale and he looked pained, Jeremy and Ryan were completely still and wide-eyed. Jeremy was still kneeling, his sword buried in the chest of a large, strangely dressed creature.

The red-skinned man who still stood, watching, on the porch had his even gaze trained on them, but Michael saw the illusion begin to crumble. His appearance was less even, there were irregularities in his uniform, and his hair began to fluctuate in length. His face twisted once, finally, then Geoff collapsed to the ground where the man once stood. The five men who accompanied him were nowhere to be seen, they disappeared into thin air.

Adam shoved Michael forward as he took steps towards the house, whose fire was beginning to die down. The few demons who remained watched, realization dawning on their faces as the illusion faded, and they were left standing in the green yard once again. The house stood, structurally sound and unmoving.

“Oh, what a funny little show. Very clever.” Adam mocked, his voice rang loud and clear. He changed his grip on Michael, removed his fingers from the searing gash on his arm, and firmly wrapped his muscular arm around Michael’s neck.

Geoff was on his knees, his face was white as a sheet as he stared at Adam. His hands were planted firmly on the ground as if he couldn’t believe it was still there. Michael could barely hear him say to himself, “Kovic. I knew it.”

“You know, I underestimated you lot. I thought getting these teeth would be easier, but you have proven to be a grade A pain in my ass.” Adam took another few strolling steps, dragging Michael with him. He stretched his other arm out and cracked his knuckles and began flexing his fingers, tauntingly, then clenched his fist. When he opened it, the skin of his hand and forearm turned a shiny, deep red, and his nails grew black and long. 

A choked gasp came from Geoff’s mouth, he seemed to break from his exhausted shock and scrambled to his feet. Adam waved his monstrous hand tauntingly, then brought it close to Michael’s skin.

“But this ends now. You know what I’m here for. If I get them, this could all be over.” Adam’s voice was serious.

“I don’t have any fucking teeth, I have no idea where they are!” Michael hissed, and tried to escape Adam’s headlock, but was met with a suffocating squeeze. Air could not enter or escape, panic swelled in his chest and he clawed at Adam’s stone arms, gasping for breath. His red hand still hovered terrifyingly in front of his face.

“Let him go. He doesn’t have them, he’s just a human.” Geoff’s voice was strained, he gripped the railing of the porch to keep himself upright.

“I know he has them.” Adam said cooly, and shook Michael in his grip. He spoke condescendingly, snickering down at Michael, whose face was turning cherry red. “Give them up, Mikey!”

“Stop! How do you _know_?” Gavin took a step forward and Adam yanked them backwards, Michael’s kicking feet dragged uselessly on the grass. He was beginning to see black pinpricks in his vision, his chest was on fire and he felt his weak limbs just pawing at Adam’s arm.

“He told us!” Adam roared.

At that moment, there was a flash of purple and delicious air filled Michael’s screaming lungs once again, he dropped to the ground and coughed weakly, he saw only white for a few seconds.

“What the fuck, why—” Adam bellowed, but a fist connected with his face and his head snapped to the side, blood immediately began pouring from his regal nose. The figure in that purple cloak crowded him and swung, and threw all of Adam’s furious, baffled swings to the side.

The stranger elegantly danced around Adam’s counter attacks, which only made him more furious, swinging and missing and _screaming_. He backed up and started towards Michael again, but he was met with a flurry of fast, hard blows to the face and neck that knocked him backwards again.

He got one good hit in, nearly spinning the person in purple around, but they righted themself quickly and continued to jab and kick at Adam with speed unmatched.

Adam let out one last frustrated, enraged caterwaul before the ground swallowed him whole. He slipped down into the grass with a scowl until all that was left was a scarred, burned patch of grass. 

Michael let his head fall, he stared at the sky and the colors darkened and swam, then he felt pressure on his shoulder. He felt fingers grip him, and Gavin’s face filled his vision, marred by grief. He looked scared, his mouth was moving but Michael could only hear blood rushing through his ears. His arm was lifted up slightly and he felt the intense, searing pain engulf him, and pins and needles filled his hand.

“Gav— shit.” Michael gasped, blinking to try to steady his vision.

“Did he touch you? With the red hand.” Gavin asked urgently, and shook Michael’s shoulder again. A flash of pain ran up his arm but he shook his head. Gavin sighed, relieved. “Michael, you’re bleeding. It’s okay, you’ll be fine.” He said, his voice sounded vaguely hysterical. He called out to someone, but Michael was too busy trying not to lose consciousness to pay attention.

“Where is Adam?” He asked, his breath was shallow and his heart was hammering against his chest, fear and adrenaline still gripped him.

“He’s gone. Look— yeah, Ryan. Give it here.” Gavin took something from Ryan and Michael heard the sound of a corked bottle being opened. “This is going to hurt.” 

Before Michael could truly prepare, he felt a burning hot sensation inside his body, as if the blood in his arm was replaced with magma. He screamed and thrashed around, but Gavin’s arms held him still. He fought but nothing stopped the fire that consumed his limb, and the burning, caustic pain that made his toes curl.

It felt like it went on for eternity, he couldn’t even see. Then, it stopped. Everything; the pain, the dizziness— he was laying on the ground.

“That was close.” Gavin smiled weakly and ran a bloodied hand through his hair. “Good thing we have potions already made.”

Michael looked down at his arm, and tried not to be disgusted. The gash was still there, but the skin and flesh around it looked healed up, there was just a vertical crevice in his arm. His hand was still filled with pins and needles but some feeling was beginning to come back. 

He opened his mouth to reply to Gavin, to thank him; but was distracted by an angry shout from behind them. Geoff, Ryan, and Jeremy surrounded the stranger in purple who chased Adam away, weapons drawn. Michael and Gavin scrambled to their feet and joined them, Gavin pushed Geoff’s shoulder roughly.

“What are you doing? He saved us!”

“He’s a fucking demon.” Geoff spat, and snatched the sword from Gavin’s hand. He pointed it at the newcomer, with the point resting right below his chin. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“My name is Alfredo, I’m not here to hurt you.” He slowly lifted his hands to remove his hood. He looked normal enough, with tanned skin and dark hair; he stood with his hands raised, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Why are you here?” Geoff ignored him, advancing again. His eyes were narrowed and he looked truly intimidating, a complete one-eighty from his paralyzed, weakened state in front of Adam. 

“I came to help, and to warn you.” Alfredo’s eyes scanned the group around him, then rested on the blade pointed at his throat. “I’m not a threat.”

“You’re a demon.” Geoff accused, not backing down.

Alfredo sighed. “Yeah. I am. But I’m not— I’m not bad. I don’t kill people.”

“Is that possible?” Michael asked slowly, unsure.

“No.” Geoff said monotonously. 

“You helped us.” Jeremy reasoned, and lowered his sword. “Why?”

Alfredo sighed and looked nervously at Geoff. “Could you put that down?”

Geoff snarled, but Ryan put a hand on his chest to stop him from moving. He shook his head, and Geoff let the blade drop, but he didn’t take his glare off of the demon.

Ryan looked pointedly at Alfredo, and he took a deep breath. “I’m a demon, yes. But I vowed to not harm any innocent creature. It’s not… easy. It’s pretty painful, actually.” He grimaced, and continued hurriedly when Geoff narrowed his eyes. “I came here because I knew Adam and his crew were coming for the human. I tried to stop them before they got here but all I could do was try to blend in when that didn’t work. I’m glad I did now.”

“Why are they doing this, though? Why him? He’s a human, he doesn’t even know what teeth you lot have been asking for.” Gavin asked. 

Alfredo opened his mouth to answer but snapped it shut when Geoff scoffed. He stood with his arms at his sides, his left hand still clutching the hilt of the sword, shaking, poised to attack if Alfredo made any sudden movements. He looked distrustful and angry.

“This is bullshit. You really expect us to believe anything you say? You’re working under Kovic, that motherfucker will do anything to get what he wants. You bat him around for a second, and he just fucks off? I don’t think so. You planned this, and I want to know why. What do you _really_ want with us?” Geoff got up in Alfredo’s face, but the demon didn’t back down or fight back, he looked levelly into Geoff’s eyes.

“I understand, but I’m not involved with the Crow. I’m trying to stop them.” He implored. Geoff didn’t budge.

“Come on, Geoff. He doesn’t even have a weapon.” Jeremy said, and took Geoff’s elbow, but he just yanked it back.

“He doesn’t need one. Get the fuck out of here, now.”

“Don’t.” Ryan spoke up. He stepped past Jeremy and Geoff, and inspected Alfredo. He didn’t squirm under the penetrating gaze, just stood erect, not hiding anything. “You know why the Crow is after Michael?”

Alfredo nodded sincerely, and that seemed to please Ryan. Geoff made another disgruntled noise, but stepped back and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. His eyes cast downwards, Michael was surprised he was still upright. 

With no more weapons pointed at his face, and Geoff’s intense glower redirected to the poor ground; Alfredo moved and spoke more easily.

“A few months ago, I heard this… voice. In my head. It was hard to understand, the words were fragmented but I understood the gist of it. Apparently every dark creature heard the same thing, it was a broadcast. We were given directions. Every demon, vampire, ghoul— you name it, we were told to look for a human who had the key to bring back the true leader of the Crow, to restore the demon empire to its former glory.”

They stood in stunned silence for a moment, Michael spared a glance at Geoff whose eyes were bulging, he had one marked hand resting on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt. Gavin, Jeremy, and Ryan looked grim, but Geoff looked as if the world was crumbling around him. Michael felt worry and anxiety creep, again, into his brain and set up camp there. An entire plague of demons and other creatures of darkness, all out for him. He felt sick to his stomach.

Alfredo turned to Michael. “Now… the message we got said that you have the key to bring him back. The only known way to allow a demon to be brought back is using teeth. You really don’t have them?” He asked, non-threatening. 

“I don’t.” Michael said honestly, and Alfredo nodded. Then, Michael cleared his throat and inquired, “Who are they trying to bring back?”

A humorless chuckle came from behind him, and Geoff said incredulously, “This can’t be happening.”

Alfredo’s brows furrowed. “The former leader of the Crow, Jon Risinger. He was— _is_ , a powerful demon who organized and waged war on the human race, as well as the fae.”

Michael gulped, fear invading his mind. Geoff rubbed his red eyes aggressively.

Gavin spoke up, then. “But if Michael doesn’t have the teeth, then there’s no way he can come back, right?”

“I guess not, but he and his demons will go any length to get what they want. He’s weak right now, from what I understand; but he has a massive following. There are demons crawling in every kingdom, things are starting to heat up. The humans are getting scared.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and the bright sunlight that was beginning to burn off the morning dew on the blood-stained grass seemed inappropriately cheery. They all stared at the ground, trying to wrap their brains around the staggering gravity of the situation. Michael was scared, for himself, but also for the unsuspecting humans whose entire world was changing. The peace and normalcy that they enjoyed was being crushed, and somewhere, he wished he could feel that security he experienced before any of this happened again.

Geoff finally spoke, his voice was cracked like a mirror and it was uncertain, guarded. “If this is true, if Jon is trying to locate the teeth from his former body— no. I just— it’s not possible. His body was completely destroyed, every part of it.”

“All I know is that Jon believes that Michael has something, teeth or not, that will bring his body back.”

Geoff scrutinized Alfredo from a distance, still watchful and dubious, but more curious now. He looked him up and down.

“What do you get out of this?”

Gavin sighed. “Stop it. He’s literally giving us information we have been searching for.” He sounded frustrated.

Geoff threw his hands in the air. “How do we know he’s telling the truth? This could all be bullshit, demons can’t— they can’t just _be good_. It doesn’t work like that.”

Alfredo nodded. He was incredibly mild-mannered for a demon. “It’s hard to believe, I know. There aren’t… that many of us. We were taught how to control our biological reaction to weakness, and resist temptation. It’s very painful, I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t believe it was the right thing.”

Geoff considered this, then sighed heavily. He rubbed a hand down his face.

“Alright. Sure. This is so ridiculous.” He looked around at their group. “You hear that? Nice demons. Warning us.”

“So… there are more? Like you.” Jeremy asked.

Alfredo smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been taking down small groups from the Crow before they reach the humans. I’m alone today because… well, no one wanted to get in Adam’s way.”

“Yeah, how did you chase him away like that? Isn’t he some hot-shot demon?” Michael wondered.

Alfredo chuckled and held out his hands, balled into fists. His knuckles were black and scarred, and almost double the size. Michael was surprised he didn’t notice the disfigurement.

“A cool trick I can do. Hurts like a bitch, but definitely does numbers on demons.”

Jeremy cleared his throat and awkwardly asked, “So, there’s a demon I’ve been looking for—”

“Jeremy.” Ryan warned, his eyes flashed. Michael winced, he knew Jeremy was going to ask about Joel.

“His name is Joel Heyman. He lived in a human village near here called Cirrane?”

Alfredo’s eyes widened and Michael perked up, his face flashed with recognition.

“He’s still around here? I haven’t seen him in ages.” When Alfredo noticed Jeremy’s wide, expectant eyes and the surprised expressions on everyone else he hurriedly continued, “He was the one who showed me this life, how to not harm others. God that— that must have been centuries ago.”

“He did?” A weight on Michael’s heart lifted when Alfredo nodded.

“I’ve been searching for him, he ran out of town a while back because the locals suspected he killed dozens of humans and left them in the woods.” Jeremy said fervently.

Alfredo’s brows knitted together and he tilted his head. “No, that can’t be. He has been like this for so long, he led a kingdom full of humans. He really loves them.” 

“He _what_?” Geoff asked, his voice raising to a ridiculous octave. 

“Uh, yeah. During the war, he was king of the Southern kingdom, Sarton. I was in his court. Things got… strange with politics at that time and the throne was taken from him. The kingdom was run into the ground by the Crow.”

Geoff and Ryan’s mouths were slack, and Jeremy looked starstruck. Michael felt similarly, his brain was going to combust from the information he was trying to retain. 

“I knew it. I knew Joel didn’t kill those people.” Jeremy all but cheered, smiling ear-to-ear.

“I don’t believe he did. I’ll have to keep a better eye out for him, he could really help us try to mitigate the damage here.” Alfredo looked up at the sky, then, and clicked his tongue. “Well, I have to be going. But listen, this is a problem that is bigger than all of us. We could really help each other out here, so I’m going to give you these.” He produced a small, silk draw-string pouch from his pocket and handed it to Jeremy, who’s hand was outstretched. He dumped the contents into his palm, which happened to be two polished chunks of jasper, some flower petals, and three bones of various sizes. 

“Soak the bag and its contents in water, then throw it on the ground outside if you need to contact me.” 

“Thank you for helping us back there, and for answering our questions.” Jeremy said earnestly, and Alfredo smiled. It would have been a warm, comforting smile but there was something missing in it.

“Of course. Just be careful. And Michael—” He turned to the human, his dark eyes glinted in the sun. “Don’t give them what they want. It could mean the end for all of us.”

At that, he said goodbye, and disappeared back into the forest, his purple cloak flapping behind him.

The five of them were left standing in the yard, watching where Alfredo vanished. 

“Good. Well, now we know what exactly is going on here.” Ryan said stiffly.

“Let’s just get inside.” Geoff suggested tiredly, and slunk over to the intact door. They all followed like a funeral march, besides Jeremy, who had a new bounce in his step.

Michael felt a headache developing, and glanced around before moving after the others. A new sense of paranoia was beginning to set in, and he realized that what was going on was a lot more serious than he anticipated. His mouth set into a line and he strode forward to where Gavin was waiting for him by the door. His face was covered with blood and he looked somber, but he still offered that goofy, charming smile of his to beckon Michael near.

He joined them inside, where everyone sat in silence around the low table in the sunroom.

Michael and Gavin took the wide wicker chair next to the large windows. Gavin crossed his legs and arms, closing himself off. 

Geoff sat, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His shoulders were sharp and tense, he pulled at his hair absently every once in a while. They sat and watched each other— watched him. 

“So, the Crow is coming back.” Gavin said hesitantly, picking at his nails. “Is there really anything we can do?”

“We need to figure out where Jon is hiding. Alfredo said he was weak, so he must have some kind of physical form right now.” Geoff mumbled, but he didn’t lift his head. It was hard to hear him, and his speech was slurring.

“We could try to track down some demons, or maybe a carrier vampire; see if they lead us to him? He must have something slinking about getting information.” Jeremy speculated.

“Or we could leave a trap? Maybe they’ll find something to report and bring it to him?” Gavin’s head shot up, he began jabbering excitedly. “Then we could kill him and this would all be over! Really nip it in the bud.”

“Seems too simple.” Ryan tried to hide his smirk, but broke and chuckled when Gavin poked his tongue out at him. 

“That’s a stupid idea. I don’t know how we can do this.” Geoff said miserably. He finally lifted his heavy head to face them and he looked like a ghost. His unfocused eyes rested on Michael and they narrowed. “Who are you?”

Michael blinked once, confused. “What?”

“Who _are_ you? How would Jon Risinger know who you are, or insist that you’re the only one who could bring him back from the dead? Something isn’t adding up, and it’s you.”

Michael didn’t know what to say. Geoff was looking at him with apprehension and it made something sick drop in his gut. He barely knew himself why any of this was happening. His mouth must have been opening and closing like a fish, but all he could manage was a pathetic, “I don’t know.”

“You know damn well he isn't a part of this.” Gavin said hotly.

“I just find it hard to believe that a random human would be targeted by the Crow, and by Risinger, nonetheless. There must be something about him—”

“Don’t be a dick, Geoff.” Jeremy was frowning.

Michael felt sick and hurt, he thought Geoff trusted him even a little bit, enough to not suspect him.

“I’m not fucking in on this. Why the hell would I do that, Adam was trying to fucking kill me.” Michael snapped. “I know as much of what’s going on as you do. Probably even less.”

Geoff sighed and let his back hit the back of his chair with a muffled _bump_ , and he blinked slowly.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t figure this… I can’t figure this out…” He drifted off at the end, and Michael noticed he was growing even paler by the minute. His eyes were glassy and kept flickering from light to dark, as if someone was striking a match over and over in his skull. He stared off at the wall, his mouth hung open and his lips were dry.

Gavin noticed and stood up quickly, as did Ryan. Gavin touched his forearm gently and asked, “Are you okay?” but he didn’t answer, just stared at the wall for a moment before he shouted, startling Gavin so badly he flew backwards. They all stood frozen as he lurched up and out of his seat, knocking the chair over in his haste. 

He stared at all of them, his eyes wide and obviously changing color, going from their natural icy blue to a deep burgundy, then back again. His chest rose up and down heavily and his body was tense, standing as if he had never left that spot.

“Geoff, what the fuck is going on?” Ryan demanded, but before he could say anything more Geoff ran out of the room, deeper into the house.

Michael shot up and followed him, and found him on the ground near the woodstove, vomiting in a deep, empty vessel on the ground. It was loud and involved lots of coughing, Gavin had to escape out the front door to vomit, himself, in the yard on account of his weak stomach. Michael awkwardly stood there behind Geoff, but looked away as he violently retched. When the sound slowed and was replaced by heavy, labored breathing Michael peeked and saw, to his dismay, the flecks of blood and black bile flecked on the pale ground.

“Uh, Geoff, what is happening?”

Geoff coughed once, finally, then stood up on wobbly legs. Michael put a hand out instinctively, expecting him to fall; but he didn’t. He waved Michael away and returned to the sunroom, where Ryan and Jeremy were sitting again, they both stared in front of them, serious and thoughtful.

“Gavin, get in here.” Geoff called out the door, voice hoarse. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, smearing red on the skin there.

Gavin wandered in, making noises of nausea and disgust. He sat down heavily next to Michael again, looking warily at Geoff.

“Warn me next time you do that.” He complained, and squawked when Michael elbowed him.

Geoff coughed again, rattling and weak, and raised his hand to placate Michael when he stood up again. He took his seat once more, and Geoff took a long, deep breath before speaking.

“Alright. So. Starting tomorrow we will surveill any known demons or high-profile vampires in the area, and try to find clues as to where Jon may be hiding. We also need to figure out why they need Michael, and what connection he may have to Jon.”

“Geoff—” Ryan began, warning, but Geoff continued on as if he didn’t hear him.

“Maybe your grandparents, or someone in your family had the teeth at one point, or they were controlled by demons. There must be something. I need to go see Meg, she has lots of records—”

“Geoff.” Ryan said, louder, and Geoff paused. He turned his body towards him, his expression was blank and unfeeling. Ryan cocked his head, his expression as empty as Geoff’s.

“You need to stop.” He said simply.

Geoff shook his head, he already knew what Ryan would say.

“Don’t tell me—”

“No. Geoff. Listen to me. You will die if you don’t stop this and let us help you.” Ryan stressed.

Michael bit his lip hard until he drew blood, he hated seeing everyone so hurt and Geoff so sick. He had no idea what it was, but obviously it had gone on too long with Geoff studiously ignoring it.

Geoff blinked slowly. He was so out of it, he had finally depleted his energy and could no longer come back in bursts, able to complete tasks and hold conversation. He stood like a corpse, Michael saw the tremor in his legs as they struggled to hold him upright. His arms dangled limply at his sides.

“You need to go upstairs and rest right now.” Ryan ordered. “You cannot expect to be of any use to us if you’re dead.”

“Ryan.” Gavin gasped.

“It’s the truth.” Ryan shot back. “I’m done pretending like this isn’t happening. Like he won’t run himself into the ground one of these days, right when we need to be a team.”

“I’m—” Geoff couldn’t finish his thought, his legs crumpled under him and he collapsed to the floor. His head hit one of the legs of the discarded chair on the ground with a sick crack that sent a terrified shiver up Michael’s spine.

“Jesus, fuck! Geoff?” Michael shouted, and rushed to the faerie’s side. Everyone else followed, they fawned over him in a panic before Ryan shooed them away, his hand moving quickly.

“Jeremy, go to my lab and get that potion I was working on last night— the… uh, the purple one. The st— the strength one.” He tripped over his words as he pulled one of Geoff’s eyelids up, revealing a dark eye that stared back at him. 

Michael looked down and noticed a wet patch on his knee. He moved it aside and spluttered when he realized it was blood that was pooling around the back of Geoff’s head.

“Ryan, he’s bleeding.”

Ryan swore and lifted his head up into his lap, feeling for the source and pressing on it, trying to stem the flow. Blood quickly soaked through his pants, it was running like water. Gavin shot up and declared, “I’ll get the bandages,” then disappeared.

Michael looked down at his bloody hands and was reminded of his father, the blood that soaked and stained the white blankets on his bed. He couldn’t get the metallic smell out of his nose and mouth, and it made him just as sick, years later.

Ryan shook his head. “This is a mess.”

“Is he okay?” Michael asked uselessly, even though he knew he obviously was not.

Ryan’s lips formed a line and he said nothing, just returned his attention back to Geoff’s unconscious, bleeding form splayed on the ground.

Gavin and Jeremy returned, and Ryan wrapped Geoff’s head up, then poured a vial of a thick, purple potion that smelled of mint down Geoff’s throat. 

“We need to get him in bed.” Jeremy suggested. Ryan nodded in agreement, then picked him up easily like a sack of potatoes. It would have been funny if Michael wasn’t so concerned.

They all followed anxiously as Ryan carried him up the stairs and to his dark room, then deposited him onto his unmade bed. They shifted him so he wasn’t laid out so awkwardly, then left him there in the dark. There was nothing more they could really do for him until he woke up, but it still felt wrong.

“Will he be okay by himself?” Michael asked warily, and Ryan just patted him on the shoulder as he passed by him to walk down the stairs. 

“He will be fine for now, the potion should give his vital organs a chance to recover and let him rest. He’ll wake up eventually.”

“He’s bleeding, though. From his head. Isn’t that bad?”

“It will stop. The wound looked superficial, head wounds just bleed a lot.”

“Jack is going to be pissed.” Gavin whistled. 

“Yeah, but he will help us make an actual plan of what to do next.” Ryan quipped, then descended the stairs. 

“We’re going to have to explain all of this to him.” Jeremy sighed. 

“I wonder if he’s going to have to stop going to Hollyhead, if what Alfredo said is true about the demons invading.” Gavin commented.

“Hopefully it isn’t that bad yet.” 

“It will be, though. If we don’t do something quick.” Gavin said darkly, and Jeremy punched his shoulder, then followed Ryan’s lead in returning downstairs. 

“We just have to wait for Jack to get back, and Geoff to get better, then we will figure it out.” He said, his back turned.

As Jeremy walked out of earshot, Gavin turned to Michael with a grim expression.

“This sucks.” He declared.

“Yeah, it does.” Michael agreed, the adrenaline slowly leaving his body, leaving him drained. “This is all so crazy.”

Gavin nodded, sympathetic. “I thought this would just be a local thing, maybe the demons around here wanted more power or something? I don’t know, but I definitely didn’t expect this.”

Michael shook his head solemnly, but couldn’t stop thinking about what Geoff said, about how he could be related to all of this. He never knew any of his family besides his parents, and they never mentioned anyone else. He was suddenly deeply curious about what link he could have with the previous leader of the Crow, that would explain why he even knew Michael’s name.

He followed Gavin downstairs to join the others in cleaning up the demon corpses in the yard, but all day he thought about Alfredo, and Jon, and the way Geoff’s eyes gleamed wickedly when they flickered dark.


	12. Twelve

“Jesus, do you not pick up your feet when you walk? They’re big roots, Gavin— you should be able to see them.” Michael jabbed, laughing as Gavin flew forward onto his hands and knees, groaning miserably. He stood up quickly, dusting himself off and rubbing the palms of his hands.

He pouted at Michael and began to whine. Ryan, a yard or so in front of them, visibly sighed. He had heard their bickering and put up with their hijinx for long enough to just try to block them out, lest he go insane.

“The ground is brown, the roots are brown. Some are covered by leaves! How am I meant to see them?” Gavin moaned.

“Maybe use your eyes.”

“I use them every day.”

“Not well, obviously. Do you see me tripping every couple feet?”

“Okay, you guys, be quiet now. We are getting closer to Easthallow.” Ryan interrupted, and Michael and Gavin reluctantly shut their mouths.

The three of them were on their way to go see Meg, to try to find a link between Michael’s family and the Crow that might explain why Jon needed him so badly. It was the only lead they could really act on, besides trying to make a demon talk. Which, Jack informed them, was basically impossible. Demons, for what they lacked in everything else; were incredibly devoted and would rather die than give anyone information they didn’t want to. That, or they’d lie.

For the past couple of days since the battle at the house, Jeremy, Ryan, and Gavin had been going out trying to follow any demon they came across, in case they led the way back to Jon or let slip any clue as to where he was hiding out. They were surprised that they could not find a single demon in all of their searching, even in the settlements that were previously populated. It was as if they all cleared out the area, which would have been good in any other situation, but now was just suspicious.

They had been throwing ideas around, the five of them— besides Geoff, whose health was declining and didn’t leave his bed much. None of them stuck, however, because they had so little to go on. Every day that went by, everyone seemed more and more restless. 

Gavin threw out the idea to go see if Meg might have any human records that might point them in some direction, and Ryan quickly agreed. Jack warned them against it; or more specifically warned Michael against going, because he had a sort of warrant on him. A metaphorical target on his back.

“You might get captured! If a band of demons catches you guys, they’ll win.” He said worriedly, pausing his task of kneading bread. He looked tired, he was the one keeping a close eye on Geoff while also doing as much reading as he could, trying to find some answers in the plethora of books they had on hand. Michael found him often in the sunroom, surrounded by open books and furiously scribbling notes in a notebook.

Michael, sitting at the table peeling walnuts, pleaded with him. “Look, we’ll be careful. Ryan and Gavin will be there, and I can fight now. I just— I have to know why this is happening.”

Jack looked at him, then sighed. He punched the dough down. “I get it, but they really can’t get a hold of you. Not only would they have access to whatever it is they want, but they’d most definitely kill you.”

Michael swallowed hard, but he was already well aware of that. The thought of his own death was getting less scary, he was mostly worried about Jon coming back. This was bigger than him.

Jack shaped the dough with his hands and took a blade to score the surface of the top. “It’s been nice having you around, just don’t go and get yourself killed.” He said, and gave a small smile.

Michael chuckled. “I won’t.”

So, Michael, Ryan, and Gavin left on their journey to Meg’s. They started on their way when the sun was beginning to set and paint its warm colors across the sky, and the long, thin gauze of clouds spread across the horizon like cotton. By the time the gates of Easthallow rose from the land and the line of armed guards came into sight, it wasn’t quite dark yet.

They stayed out of earshot and kept a wall of trees between them and the patrollers. Ryan peeked around at them, his mouth a thin like. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“We have to get around the guards somehow.”

“Maybe they’ll let us in if we ask nicely.” Gavin’s tone was sarcastic and Ryan rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, and while we’re at it let’s just tell them we’re faeries, too.”

Gavin snickered, then looked around. The tall, red brick walls that surround the city stretched into the distance, with their wooden stakes and barbed wire decorating the top. A watchtower was stationed a mile or so away, with a bright flame lighting the top. The only entrance was in front of them, blocked by a dozen tall, burly guards with swords and shields. 

“They seem to have upped their defenses.” Ryan mentioned and pointed at the small squares of missing bricks in the wall, repeated every few yards or so. Through each of the holes Michael could just make out the tip of a sharp arrow.

“How the bloody hell can we get in?” Gavin groaned. “Damn demons, causing a panic.”

Ryan hummed, then crouched down and began drawing in the patch of dirt beneath his feet with a twig. Gavin looked down, an amused smirk on his face.

“What, you’re bored? Going to do some doodling?”

“Hush.” Ryan said mildly.

Michael crouched down next to him and watched in wonder as Ryan drew a few complicated runes in the dry, red dirt. Once he finished, he dug a small pouch from his jacket pocket and opened it. He dumped the contents onto his drawing, it was just a bunch of tiny, brown seeds.

He then stood up and dusted himself off, admiring his work. Gavin, unimpressed, said, “And what is _that_ supposed to do?”

“Well, Gavin, I anticipated we might have trouble getting in, or getting out. So, I brought these fern seeds with me. I collected them at midnight on Night of St. John, they give you a kind of invisibility. It’s more like a mild inconspicuousness, it makes it hard for anyone to notice you. But I paired it with this rune of uplifting power, I figure it will boost the effects.”

“You really just have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Michael asked.

“Hardly.” Ryan said, but smiled anyway.

Gavin made an impatient noise and looked around furtively, suddenly nervous. 

“Can we get going?”

Michael bumped his shoulder and gave him a questioning look. Gavin rubbed the scar on his neck and grimaced. He shifted on his feet, itching to move.

“This, uh. This is near where those humans got Jeremy and I. Gives me the creeps is all.”

Michael looked around at the deserted forest around them and shivered. Jeremy had gone into detail what happened, about how they held Gavin down and carved him up and burned him. It looked like anywhere else in the forest, but it seemed darker now, clouded by the events that transpired. He put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and squeezed. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, but Gavin seemed to understand. The corner of his lips twitched, and Ryan cleared his throat.

“Alright. The two of you follow me, we just can’t move too quickly in front of the guards. Be quiet, don’t make a sound until I tell you to.”

“Yessir.” Michael saluted and Ryan shook his head, trying not to let amusement show on his face.

They pressed themselves to the side of the wall and quickly made their way over to the gate, and stopped when they were a few yards away.

Ryan lifted his hand and held one finger up, signalling them to wait. In front of them, the guards were pacing, chatting, and watching the darkness of the trees intently. They crept forward, and once they made it to the gate, one of the guards shifted his attention to where they were.

Michael’s breath caught in his throat, he felt Gavin’s tense body pressed behind him. His hair ticked the back of Michael’s neck, they were frozen.

The guard, a young man with jet black hair, squinted in their direction.

“What is it?” One of the older guards asked, and nudged him with his elbow. “Seeing things already? Your shift just began.”

The young man shook his head, looking confused. “I could have sworn… ah, I don’t know. I feel like someone is here.”

Ryan continued moving and Michael had to force himself to follow, sweat beading on his brow. They crept past the men and slipped past the cracked gate with no incident, surprisingly.

They walked down the cobbled roads in the shadows, and once they put some distance between them and the guards, slipped down a thin, trash-filled alley.

Ryan let out a relieved breath. “Close, eh?”

“That was terrifying.” Michael said, and looked around, paranoid. “No one saw us, right?”

“No, I think we’re okay.” Ryan affirmed, peeking around the corner at the gate. The men were still standing around, unaware that three trespassers just entered the city.

Gavin leant against the wall and sighed. “Okay, so now Meg’s?”

Ryan nodded and patted himself down. He pulled a rabbit’s foot from his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers. “Yeah, we just have to make it to—”

“Hey, what are you doing back there?”

Michael turned around and standing in the middle of the road was a guard, staring right at them. He jabbed a finger in their direction. “You lot! Who are you!”

“Fuck.” Michael swore, and Gavin grabbed his arm. The faerie’s face blanched, his hand went to the hilt of his sword at his hip.

“Ryan, you said we were invisible!” He whispered.

“I guess it wore off—”

“Hey! Come out of there.” The guard began advancing and Ryan shot out of the alley, Michael yanked Gavin forward and they sprinted after him down the street.

There were still some people out walking around, heading home before curfew. The sun was spreading its last colors across the sky, the deep purples and blues casting a dark haze on everything. The moon was full and bright in the sky, lighting their way. Michael’s legs pumped hard as he kept pace with Ryan, he spared a glance back and wished he hadn’t— there were about six guards running after them.

“Where are we going?” He shouted at Ryan as they skidded around a corner, and shot across a large plaza.

“We need to get to Gale street, it’s around here somewhere.”

Just as they rounded another corner, there was a loud crash and voices shouting behind them. Ryan whipped around and Michael narrowly avoided crashing into him. Gavin wasn’t so lucky, he rammed right into Michael’s back and nearly toppled him over.

There was a loud, strangled cry and Michael saw blood pour across the light cobble, spurting from a guard’s flayed neck. The other men that were previously following them stood back, shocked, and raised their weapons at a large, hunched figure that was crouched over the body.

“Ryan, what—” Gavin began, but Ryan interrupted.

“Demon.” His voice was dark and he took a steadying step back.

The demon stood up and faced the guards.

“S-stay right there!” A voice called, and before any of them could do anything, the demon launched forward and hurled two of them into the side of a building, they handed heavily on the ground and did not move again.

Gavin unsheathed his sword but Ryan pulled his arm back. His face was clouded, he looked conflicted.

“We can’t. There are more. Alfredo was right, the demons have already infested this place. We have to go.”

“We can’t just let it—”

Ryan pushed Gavin back. “This is not what we’re here for. We can’t let them see Michael.”

Gavin’s wide green eyes turned to Michael, he returned his sword to its case. He nodded once, then they turned and kept running. Michael tried not to listen to the bloody screams and cries, but they buried themselves in his brain anyway.

They made it to a wide, black alley that seemed to go on forever. There were toppled crates and trash littering the ground. Ryan slowed to a jog and turned, making sure no one was following them. The demon was occupied, it didn’t even seem to notice them. Michael let out a breath, and they slipped quietly into the darkness of the alley.

They walked, Michael could only hear the sounds of their shoes hitting the cobblestone and heavy breathing, and suddenly a chill came over them. It settled like snow, the cold air sucked the warmth from his body and he gave a great shiver as the world formed around them, and they stepped out on the other side. The sky was gray, as it was before, on the other side of Easthallow. There was no sun or moon, only a pale light that came from no direction in particular, but still cast long, pointed shadows that seemed to reach for them. The people walking in the streets were slow and gray-faced, moving as if in a dream. 

Gavin came up beside Michael, his face drawn. “That demon looked strange.”

“I didn’t get a good look at it.” Michael admitted, but thought of its tall build and incredible strength to fling those two guards against the wall like that. The man on the ground with his neck cut open as if it was done with a sword, but no weapon in sight.

Gavin shook his head. “I didn’t either, but it looked… I don’t know. It looked like an animal.”

Ryan, walking swiftly in front of them, said, “They’re getting more powerful, I haven’t seen anything like it since— well, since the war.”

The buildings around them reached up towards the sky, ending in a point as if to scratch the clouds. Every window was blocked from the inside, if they had glass at all. They walked in the center of the road, there were no carriages or people to avoid.

Michael looked down at his arm, at the skin that parted to reveal the gray, scarred tissue that covered his bones. The cut was deep, but whatever Gavin put on it stopped it from bleeding or even hurting, just healed it as it was. The sight still made him queasy, he touched it inside but it felt just like any other part of his arm. When he looked up, he saw the building that he recognized as Meg’s library, though it was not labelled. The holly tree guarding the door was one of the only spots of color, the red berries shone in the flickering light of the candle that sat in the window.

They didn’t say anything as Ryan rested his hand on the knob, then pushed it open after a moment. They filed in, and the bell at the top of the door rang through the building. 

“Hello! Who is it!” Meg’s sweet voice rang, then she popped her head out from the top of a bookshelf across the room. “Oh! It’s you!”

“Yeah, it’s us.” Ryan called out, Michael could hear the smile in his voice. Meg’s head disappeared and there was a wooden rattling noise, then she bounded over to them. Her hair was unnaturally red and curled slightly at her neck, and she flashed her straight, white teeth when she smiled wide. The dress she wore was glassy blue and Michael could swear he saw beads of water running down it continuously, but she didn’t appear wet. 

“Hey! I wasn’t expecting to see you for a while, how did you get into the city?” She asked, a thick, white-bound book held against her chest. 

“Ryan did some bloody spell that didn’t even work.” Gavin grumbled.

“It did work, it just wore off quicker than expected.” Ryan corrected, then turned to Meg, effectively cutting Gavin from the conversation. He crossed his arms. Ryan continued, “I used Seeds of Fern and a rune of uplifting power, I thought it would boost the effects to make all three of us inconspicuous. It worked to get past the guards at the gate, but I think the power needed to cover three people was more than I anticipated.” He said excitedly, using lots of hand gestures.

Meg looked thoughtful, then replied just as enthusiastically, “I think a rune of anonymity would have worked for longer, it has a higher power threshold—”

Gavin groaned. “You two are going to go on like this forever. We are here for a reason.”

Ryan cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, golden in the flickering light. “Yes, indeed. There’s some trouble on our end.”

Meg cocked her head and her hair fell easily onto her shoulder. “About the demons, I’m guessing?”

“Yes. We got some information from a demon who says he’s been rehabilitated.”

Meg’s eyes widened. “What, are you joking?”

“He saved us, he helped chase off Adam.” Michael said.

“Kovic.” Ryan’s voice was grim. 

Meg’s hand went to her mouth and she gasped, “He’s alive?

“Yes, and they are planning on bringing Jon Risinger back.” Ryan said.

Meg looked between them, and her gaze rested on Michael. Her hand fell to her side and she looked dismayed. “The teeth. Of course.”

“That’s the problem. The demon who helped us claimed that every creature of darkness heard a telepathic message that Michael is the key to Jon being reinstated as the leader of the Crow. He said they assumed it meant he had the teeth to bring him back, but he doesn’t have them.”  
“What else could it be? I’ll admit, I’ve been doing some research since the last time you guys came here, and I couldn’t find a single other way to bring back a demon other than with the teeth.”

“Geoff thought there might be a link between Michael and Jon that would explain why he even knows who he is. Maybe his family had something to do with it, or otherwise.” Ryan explained.

Meg nodded thoughtfully, then turned on her heel and walked away, mumbling under her breath. They followed her, and she said, louder, “Michael, what’s your last name?”

“Uh, Jones.” He answered, and she led them to a dust-covered bookshelf in a back corner of the library. It was packed with large, thick books dating back far further than Michael could even recognize. She fingered through them, and extracted one near the end of the line. The book was enormous, she had to haul it off the shelf with two hands. She lugged it to a nearby table and dropped it with a loud _thump_.

“Human records, they get rid of them every few years when they get outdated. This is the most recent one I have.” She explained, and began thumbling through the thin pages. “It’ll tell us the names of immediate and extended family members that were reported to the royal authority, and their status.”

Michael’s head swam when he saw the pages, loaded with small, packed text. She seemed to sift through it easily, her eyes moving from side to side as she read through each line. 

She pointed a finger at one block of text and hummed, then shifted the book over to Michael.

It was a family tree that ended with his own name at the bottom under his parents. Beside his were the names of many cousins and others who he didn’t even know existed, he didn’t know his parents had siblings. They weren’t the most talkative people, and especially not with him. At the top of the list where his family began, there were two names, but one was covered by a slash of black ink. Where it would have said their profession or status, it was only the word **REDACTED**. Beside it was the name Mary, with no other description.

“What am I looking at?” Michael asked tightly, his frustration building. It wasn’t making any sense, he didn’t know what he was supposed to gain from this.

“Does any of this look familiar to you?” Meg asked kindly. He looked up and all three of them were looking at him expectantly.

“No. I didn’t know any of my family other than my parents, and they never told me about anything. The name… the one that’s crossed out? What does that mean?”

Ryan spun the book around to look for himself, his brows furrowed. Gavin read over his shoulder.

“I’ve never seen that in record books.” Meg said, disturbed, and went back to the bookshelf. She pulled out an earlier edition, and laid that one out on the ground. As she flipped through the pages, Michael wracked his brain for anything his parents could have told him about his family when he was a child.

His parents were secretive people who didn’t talk much. They were both from Fieldfarrow, the town he grew up in. His mother let slip once that she used to be a seamstress, but other than that she spoke very little of her life before Michael was born. She was a quiet, unassuming woman who never scolded him, just set her dark, cold eyes on him when he did something wrong until he shrank away. His father was much the same, he was a reserved man who Michael knew almost nothing about. He spent much of his time farming or tending to the animals they kept, he was distant and awkward when he interacted with Michael. They never told any stories of their childhoods, or mentioned family at all. 

“The name is crossed out here, too.” Meg announced.

“That’s good, right? Well, it’s a lead.” Gavin said slowly.

“It’s definitely strange, maybe Geoff was right. It’s something to go off.” Ryan agreed, inspecting the page.

“Sorry I don’t have more to offer.” Meg said, and joined them at the table once more. “I’ll keep looking, see if I can find anything else.”

“Thank you, this is more than we expected to find.” Ryan put a strong hand on Meg’s shoulder.

She smiled lightly but a frown soon followed. “So… Jon is really trying to come back? Are you sure?”

Ryan sighed. “The demon who helped us, Alfredo, told us so. I’m inclined to believe him, it makes sense. I mean, what else could rile them up like this? Plus, he had information about a friend of Jeremy’s. Another demon who is also not very demon-like.”

“A rehabilitated demon. I didn’t think that was possible.” Meg’s face twisted.

“I didn’t either, but he seemed genuine enough. I don’t know what he would gain from setting us on Jon’s trail, or helping us fight Kovic, if he was lying.”

“What about Geoff? I can’t imagine he was on board with that.”

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. “No, he had a hard time believing it. Actually, I needed to talk to you about something. Could we…?” He awkwardly gestured to the open door on the other side of the room.

Her eyes softened and she looked concerned. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. Michael, Gavin— do you mind?”

“No, go on. I wanted to look for something anyway.” Gavin said quickly, and disappeared into the maze of bookshelves, leaving Michael standing alone in front of the open record books. Ryan and Meg slipped into the room and closed the door with a definitive click. 

Michael flipped a few pages of the huge book in front of him without trying to read the text, then decided to wander. From the outside, he wouldn’t think this many bookcases could fit in this space, but it was very expansive. There were rolling ladders on each side of the particularly tall shelves that reached up toward the ceiling, and books piled on the ground at the ends. He dragged a finger down a row of spines, and it came away clean. Some of the books were more recently handled than others, and they were in varying states. Some were new and crisp, others looked worn and like they were older than him. There were newspapers, journals, and folders everywhere. 

Michael picked up some random book with a red cover, and upon opening it realized it was not written in any discernible language. It was a series of nonsensical scribbles and dashes, written like text. He put it back.

When he looked down the aisle, he saw a woman. He didn’t know there was anyone else there, she had a small black book in her hand. She wore a modest white dress with a blue shawl, and her blonde hair was mostly covered. She looked at him and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He didn’t notice her walk forward, but suddenly she was standing in front of him.

“This place has so many books, I don’t know where to start.” She said sweetly. Her eyes were blue and icy, like shards that could cut.

“Uh, yeah.” He said, wary of this woman. He remembered where he was, she could be anyone. 

She smiled again at him, like she was practicing. The black book in her hand burned something in Michael’s mind, he felt as if he had to get his hands on it. It was an intense urge that made him nervous, but all he could do was stare at it.

She took another step towards him, she was very close. She smelled like sour apples and something bitter that he couldn’t place. 

“Michael, not everyone is who they seem.”

“What?”

“You only know what they tell you. Who says they’re telling the truth?”

“Who are you, what are you talking about?” He asked, but reality felt like it was fading away. He heard a noise like static in his head, it shifted from ear to ear, he could make out the word _Listen_.

Red light filled his vision and went away just as quickly, and he was standing alone in the aisle. He blinked once. Twice. 

There was a small black book in his hand, embossed on the front in large, gold type it read _Letters from the Crow_. He opened it, it was a collection of old letters, hand-stitched into the book lining. He didn’t remember picking it up, but figured it didn’t matter. Something crawled in his head and told him to take it with him. He weighed it in his hand, it was light and the leather cover was soft and worn.

He winced and heard a loud buzzing noise, and in that noise he heard _Take it. Take it_.

So he did. He slipped it into his cloak’s deep pocket without thinking much about it. Obviously he would take it. It was no more a part of this library than he was.

As soon as the book was out of sight, the memory faded in his mind like a small, unnecessary detail.

He continued walking up and down the aisles, examining the varied odds and ends placed everywhere. There were ceramic pots with nothing in them but an empty tea cup, various bones, random pieces of jewelry, combs inlaid with mother-of-pearl. All scattered among the books, tiny treasures that caught his eye on his walk along the perimeter of the library.

He came across a small bench below the front window, covered by a thin lace curtain. The light from outside, although faint, revealed scratches and wear on its glossy surface. He sat down on it and took a deep breath. He rubbed his hands together slowly.

He couldn’t believe his life led him here. It was unbelievable, but somehow felt familiar, now. He was terrified; of Jon, Adam, his own uncertainty leading him down a path that ended in one large question mark. _Where is this leading? Who am I, really? What will the rest of my life look like, however long I have left? What will happen if Adam catches me, for good this time?_

Questions pulsed through his mind and he squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back, rolling on his shoulders. He was used to nothing making sense at that point, he was an outsider in this world of magic he found himself a part of— but the fact that his family might have something to do with this made something sore and frantic ache in his brain. He couldn’t imagine what link he could have to Jon, or to anything. He felt like he was drifting in the wind with nothing to hold him anywhere, no more recognizable family to look to for answers.

“Feeling tired?” Gavin’s voice brought Michael back, he was leant against the side of a bookshelf, a lazy smile spread on his face. His green cloak was draped on his arm and his blonde hair was tousled, he looked like he just woke up.

“No, not really. Just thinking.” Michael replied.

“I’m exhausted. Couldn’t sleep last night.” Gavin walked over casually, touching the lid of some intricately-painted vessel on a small table. He tapped it a few times, the metallic _tink tink tink_ resounded in the otherwise quiet space. 

“Any reason?”

Gavin shrugged and sat down on the bench next to Michael, melting back until his head was resting on the windowsill. He sighed pleasantly and kicked his legs out, crossing his ankles.

Michael raised his eyebrows at him and eyed up his relaxed form. “Comfy?”

“Extremely.” Gavin smiled up at him, his pretty eyelashes catching the light from the window. Michael looked away quickly, if he started staring he didn’t know if he would be able to stop. It was strange, he found himself transfixed by Gavin more often than not lately. 

He cleared his throat. “I wonder why that name in the record books is crossed out like that.”

Gavin sighed. “It’s weird, isn’t it? It must have been before the war, what was it— five generations ago?”

“Something like that. I don’t know anything about my family, I have no idea what it could mean.”

“It might not mean anything, but it’s something to look into. Honestly, any bit of information we can get matters right now.” He paused, Michael could feel his gaze on him but didn’t look away from his hands, laid flat on his thighs. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “We can handle this, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not worried about me. I just— it’s bad, right? Really bad? If Jon comes back there will be another war.”

“It’s bad. You’re right, but it’s not hopeless. The Crow was defeated once, it can be defeated again. It won’t even come to that if we get to Jon first.”

Michael nodded, trying to let Gavin’s positive outlook ease his worries. He couldn’t help but to feel like this was resting on his shoulders. He had something, teeth or otherwise, that could bring Jon back, and there was an army of demons and other monsters out to get him.

A warm hand grasped Michael’s own, he jumped at the contact. Gavin was sitting upright, his face was close and he could feel his warm breath on his cheek. There was a look in his eyes, fierce and sincere.

“You’re not alone here. We have your back.”

Michael blinked, he felt his face flush. “Did you read my mind again?”

A toothy smile appeared on the faerie’s face and he guffawed, just the sound made Michael’s heart flutter embarrassingly. 

“No, you’re just easy to read.”

Michael elbowed him, but Gavin just kept on smiling goofily at him.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Michael asked gruffly, he sat back and crossed his arms. 

“So grumpy, wow.”

“Not grumpy, you’re just weird.”

“Me? Weird?” Gavin laid his hand delicately on his chest and batted his eyes.

Michael, always drawn into Gavin’s ridiculous displays of coquettishness, played along.

“Yeah. You’re fuckin’ weird, man.”

Gavin grabbed Michael’s chin and tilted his face up, a sly, knowing smirk on his face. Michael couldn’t help the furious blush that he knew would creep onto his cheeks. 

“If I’m weird, what does that make you?” He said it teasingly, his voice like honey. Michael’s breath hitched in his throat. Panic alarms were going off in his brain, and a strange, light, fluttering feeling exploded in his stomach. _Shit._

Gavin laughed easily when Michael jerked his head to the side, scowling.

“Dick.”

“Aw, come on Michael. I’m just playing.” Gavin whined, and leaned into his space. That same shit-eating grin was plastered on his face, he poked Michael’s cheek. “You’re so hot-headed.”

Michael slouched and batted his hand away. He could still feel the warm pads of Gavin’s fingers on his chin and he tried to ignore it, ignore the way his heart was still racing and how distinctly not-angry he was.

“Don’t ignore me, Michael. I don’t know if I can take it.” He said dramatically, shaking his shoulder.

Michael sat still, staring straight ahead. Gavin stopped pestering him and scooted over, further away.

He sounded nervous when he spoke, “Hey, are you— AH!” His surprised shout reverberated throughout their corner of the library when Michael pinched him hard on the leg, and Michael couldn’t stem the flow of laughter that poured out of his mouth.

“You’re mean.” Gavin pouted, rubbing his leg harshly. “That one hurt.”

“Yeah, my head hurts hearing you talk so much. We’re even.”

He grinned down at Gavin, who had slumped down in his seat again. He stuck his tongue out childishly, and Michael tousled his hair fondly. He looked up at the candelabra fixed on the side of the bookshelf in front of them, at the tall, flickering flame and wondered if it was so bad that he got mixed into all of this magic stuff. Sitting there with Gavin, goofing off, reminded him that life was good, despite everything that was threatening to smother it.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter this time! Enjoy, hope you are well.

Michael was shaken awake and he felt disoriented immediately, struggling to gain his bearings. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and groaned. Ryan stood above him, looking tired but amused.

“We have to get going.”

Michael tried to sit up and stretch his stiff muscles but was limited by Gavin, who was still asleep on his shoulder. They had stayed up as long as they could waiting for Ryan and Meg to finish talking, but they eventually succumbed to the dark, ambient atmosphere of the quiet library and dozed off. Gavin’s cloak was spread over them, the faerie still had it tucked underneath his chin as he snored softly into Michael’s collarbone.

Michael felt his face heat up but Ryan didn’t seem to notice, just looked past them out the window. The sky that had darkened since they arrived was beginning to light up again.

Michael shrugged his shoulder in an attempt to rouse Gavin, who lifted his head and blinked sleepily.

“Wha?” He mumbled and rubbed at his bleary eyes. It was endearing the way he looked around slowly, eyes still heavy and lidded, trying to bring himself back to reality.

Michael nudged him again and smiled. “We fell asleep. Time to go.”

Gavin’s eyes flew open and he sat up faster than Michael was expecting, and he immediately missed the warmth against his side. Gavin’s cheeks were flaming and he shook himself, it was a sight to see _him_ be flustered for once. 

“Oh, um. Sorry ‘bout that.” He said, embarrassed, and stood up quickly.

Michael stretched his arms out, finally, and rolled his head around on his shoulders until his neck cracked. Satisfied, he just smiled up at Gavin, who was looking away pointedly, a light blush still present on his cheeks.

“We shouldn’t go through Easthallow, it’s too dangerous right now.” Ryan commented, still peering out the window. There were people strolling around outside, still in that listless, ghostly manner that they kept up in this realm. 

“Is there another way?” Michael asked, and stood up on legs filled with pins and needles. 

“Just through the woods, there’s a gateway back home somewhere. I haven’t been there in a while, but I think I remember how to get to it.”

Michael nodded and slipped his cloak back on over his shoulders. He looked around. “Where did Meg go?”

“She’s asleep. She has been for a while, I was doing some reading.” Ryan said simply, and turned on his heel towards the door. They followed him out into the cool outside air, Michael was surprised by the chill.

They exited onto the street, where more people were out walking around than Michael realized. He grew nervous but noticed that none of them so much as spared them a glance. 

They slipped between two buildings near the library and beyond that small alley was the forest. There were no walls surrounding this part of Easthallow, just a border of tall, leafless dead trees that clattered together in the harsh wind that appeared as soon as they stepped from the cobble and onto the dry, packed earth.

This forest was much different from the one Michael had grown so used to. The trees were skeletons, just tall, white poles sticking out of the ground with wiry branches at the top that looked like they were hanging on by mere fibers. There were no leaves or plants covering the ground. Red, sandy dirt was underfoot that puffed up as they walked and stained the bottom of their pants and covered their shoes. It was silent except for the haunting groans of the trees as they swayed back and forth in the wind that blew that red dirt around them. No wildlife or anything living occupied it, just those bone-like trees that looked like hands waving at the gray sky.

Gavin looked bewildered as well, glancing around with nervous curiosity at their strange, otherworldly surroundings.

“You sure you know where we’re going?” Michael asked after a while of walking, it was starting to get darker and darker the deeper they went. Small sprigs of dry, yellow grass that smelled like rotten meat were popping up around the bases of the trees, and tiny bugs buzzed through the air that Michael was getting sick of swatting away. Gavin was at his side, sputtering and thrashing his head around trying to avoid the insects.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be much longer.” Ryan said. He sounded confident and Michael trusted him enough to settle back and just keep walking, trying not to breathe in through his nose on account of the slowly worsening scent.

“This feels weird, Ry.” Gavin said slowly, he kept touching his neck and looking up, his brows were furrowed.

“We’re going the right way, don’t worry.” Ryan turned and offered a smile, but Gavin still looked bothered. Michael slung an arm around his shoulder, trying to comfort him (and himself, in a way), and he let out a huff. He gagged every once in a while even though he had the fabric of his cloak up over his nose and mouth.

Eventually, they came across a clearing. It was very dark by then, Michael could just barely make out a pile of bones in the center. The rib cage was large and bleached and inside it was a small, red pinprick of light that had no source. The ground around it was truly barren, the sandy dirt turned to a fine gray powder that muffled their steps.

“Where the hell are we?” Gavin asked, his fingers brushing Michael’s arm lightly. He looked around furtively, Michael could feel his paranoia. “What if there are creatures?”

“Nothing can survive out here.” Ryan said and took a few steps forward towards the bones, and the light.

“Stop! No, something isn’t right.” Gavin rushed to grab the back of Ryan’s shirt and tugged him back.

Ryan, surprised, turned to face Gavin who was shaking and whipping his head around, trying to see something unknown to the other two.

“What, Gavin? What’s up with you?” Ryan asked, bewildered.

“This… I— I don’t know. Something is out here.” He said quietly. He looked genuinely frightened, even in the darkness his green eyes flashed with panic. 

“Gavin, there’s nothing. The portal is right there, we can get out of here.” Ryan said gently, and tried to pull Gavin forward by his arm. Gavin dug his heels into the dirt and ripped his arm away, backing up.

“Gavin?” Michael stayed by his side, not knowing what was going on.

“Listen to me. I can’t—”

Before he could say anything else, a low humming noise surrounded them and they all stopped, frozen in place. Michael could feel the vibrations in his skull and felt light-headed, he grabbed Gavin’s hand to keep himself steady.

“What the fuck is that?” Michael asked, trying to find a source, but he could only see the darkness and dead trees around them.

Ryan backed up until he stood in front of them and put a hand on his sword’s hilt, sheathed at his belt. They stood for a moment until the noise faded, leaving their ears ringing in the dead silence. The wind was no longer blowing, it was still and cold.

“There.” Gavin’s voice was trembling and small, he pointed past Ryan’s shoulder at a dark shape Michael could only just make out, one that chilled him to his core.

In the distance, behind one of the bleached trees was a hunched shadow of a human-like creature with its arms held aloft. It was completely black and void of any discernible features, just a white smudge where its face would have been. It stepped forward in slow motion, languidly making its way over to them. As it drew near, Michael noticed that it wore a white mask with two red eyes and a large, painted mouth filled with dull, rounded teeth. 

It stopped just before the clearing, facing them. Its arms were still held out in front of it, fingertips pointing towards the ground.

Ryan was frozen in front of them. Gavin’s hand gripped the sleeve of Michael’s shirt tightly, his fingers wound around the fabric. Michael couldn’t breathe, he was stuck staring at that strange mask that seemed to observe them, unseeingly. 

“Wait.” Ryan whispered, not looking away from the creature. He unsheathed his sword and set it on the ground in front of him, his movements smooth and deliberate. He raised one hand as if to wave; palm out, fingers together. His voice, deep and confident, boomed in the dead silence of the forest when he spoke. “We wish to travel back to our realm.”

Michael was so tense he thought he would explode, there was nothing for a few moments. The creature stared at them, then slowly cocked its head to the side. Its arms lowered to its sides and it stepped into the clearing. The earth beneath its feet glowed with every calculated step, the dirt, previously ash; puffed up into white smoke that curled around its legs until it stood right in front of Ryan.

Gavin was shaking terribly and he grasped for Michael’s hand, which he allowed to be enclosed in the faerie’s iron grip. They could only watch as it looked Ryan up and down, then held one dark, ghostly hand out.

Ryan took it, and promptly disappeared into thin air. It was shocking, he was there and suddenly he was not. Gavin gasped and leaped back, taking Michael with him.

“No, no. Please, don’t.” Gavin stuttered and fumbled with his sword’s holder. He pulled at it, but his sword was stuck in its sheath, useless. Michael felt like he left his body, Ryan’s sword was still laid on the forest ground.

That humming noise rang through his ears again and the creature approached, still creepily hunched and walking with an irregular, soft gait that appeared bashful. It looked at the ground where Ryan’s sword laid and stopped. It reached down and tried to pick it up but its hand went right through it. It took a few more swipes but eventually gave up, it straightened up once again and stood before them.

“Maybe we should… touch it.” Michael whispered, studying the blank, dumb mask that stared at him. It wasn’t backing them up further, it just stood in front of them now, offering its void hand.

“Are you _mad_?” Gavin demanded, yanking him back further. “It’s— well, I don’t know. Ryan just disappeared!”

“Maybe it is the portal? Ryan was pretty quick to touch it.”

Gavin sputtered, still attempting to pull his weapon free. Michael grabbed his other hand and held him still. He gave him a pleading look.

“It’s all we can do, look. It’s not attacking us.”

And it wasn’t, it just stood there.

“What if it sends us somewhere else? What if it kills us?” Gavin croaked.

“We don’t really have another option.”

Gavin breathed out harshly and scowled. Michael let him go and they gave each other a meaningful look. 

“Okay, okay. Fine. I swear to God, if we die I’m finding you in the afterlife and you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Michael smiled. He was afraid, sure, but he was going to have to buck up and start making decisions sometime. Plus, the longer he looked at this… _thing_ in front of him, the less scary it seemed. It stood innocently, not making any sudden movements.

“You go first. I’ll be right behind you.” Michael said.

Gavin nodded once, resolute. He took a deep breath, then gently laid his hand on the creature’s, and disappeared just like Ryan.

Michael could only hear his own breathing, and the creature turned its face towards him. He sighed. “I don’t know what you are, but please don’t kill me.”

It didn’t react. Just kept that long, thin hand outstretched. Michael took it and everything went black, his ears buzzed pleasantly and every thought left his mind. He was no longer burdened by his worries, or any kind of conscious thought that would have led him to any meaningful conclusions. He just existed for that brief moment, suspended in darkness that was so comfortable. 

All too soon, he opened his eyes to a new world. He was in the forest that he was familiar with, surrounded by old, towering trees that shifted in color and cast their leafy shade on him. His head still swam and it took him a moment to right himself, but when he did he realized he was alone.

“Gavin? Ryan?” He called, and just as soon as his nerves left him they returned. He was by himself, in a place flooded with creatures wishing to do him harm, and demons out hunting him.

He took his sword out and started walking in a direction that felt right, but he couldn’t be sure. The soft crunching of leaves and twigs under his feet was comforting after walking so long in that place, barren of any sign of life. He thought of the strange mask of that creature and felt only comfort, where before he felt afraid. It was a gentle presence in his mind, the one who carries the portal.

After a few minutes of walking with no change in the scenery, he heard a voice in the distance. His heart caught in his throat and he slipped behind a particularly thick tree, hoping it wasn’t Adam, or anything else for that matter. He stood on gnarled roots and hugged the rough bark of the tree, trying to stay as still as possible.

Relief washed over him when he recognized the voice as Gavin’s. It called his name, and Michael returned it.

“Gav?”

Gavin whipped his head around and the smile that broke across his face spurred Michael forward, he weaved through the trees until he was by his side once again.

“There you are! It worked!” Gavin cheered.

“Yeah, where’s Ryan? How do we get back?”

Gavin waved his hand dismissively. “Ryan’s fine, he’s a big boy. We’ll meet him back at the house. I was worried about _you_ getting lost.” He poked Michael’s nose and started walking.

“I think I could have found my way.” Michael mumbled.

Gavin shrugged. “Usually the forest will lead you where you need to go, but Geoff cast a spell around the house to make it harder to find. I don’t know if it’s still in effect though, since Adam and his men were able to find us.”

“How do you even navigate this place? Everything looks the same.” Michael asked as he looked around at the identical trees, the pattern of nature repeating and repeating forever as they walked. There weren’t any discernible landmarks that he noticed, no reference point to tell them where they even were. These woods were so expansive, they reached up towards the northern edge of Dawsbury. 

“I’ve lived in these woods for a long time, she is a lot kinder than the forest near Dursely.” Gavin breathed in, deep and slow. “Do you feel her trying to bring you somewhere?”

“She? What the hell are you talking about.” Michael snickered.

Gavin sighed. “‘Course. You’re a human, you have no connection to nature. Fae are sensitive to the auras and spirits of the forest, they’re like guiding hands. She’s happy today, look how the sun comes through the trees. Don’t you see?” He smiled as he talked, raising his hand up as they passed by a low canopy of leaves. He let them run through his splayed fingers.

“Just looks like a bunch of trees to me.” Michael said, but tried to observe more thoroughly for the remainder of their journey back home. The ground was bouncy with the layers and layers of leaves and nutrient-rich soil, as he stepped he thought he felt something reaching up into him every time he made contact. The sun, absent in the world they just came from, warmed his skin even as the air was cooling with the dry season on its way. He didn’t feel any guiding hands, as Gavin put it, but he did feel at peace.

The house came into view after a while, sitting just as humbly in that sunny clearing. Butterflies and other small bugs congregated around the dandelion patch next to the fence, buzzing softly as they passed by. 

“We’re home!” Gavin sang as he flung the door open with a flourish, into an empty sitting room. The door to the kitchen was closed and the small windows between the rooms were covered from the inside.

Michael and Gavin gave each other a look and began towards the other door, but it opened before they could get there.

Jeremy stood in the doorway, grinning giddily. Ryan was at his side smiling as well.

“There you two are!” Jeremy said raucously and threw the door open for them to walk through.

“Ryan, you could have told us that _thing_ was the portal. I thought you were killed.” Gavin snapped and gave the other faerie a small shove as he walked by. Ryan, not disturbed, just shrugged.

“I didn’t really know. I figured it would lead us to the true portal.”

In the kitchen, sitting at the table, was a woman Michael did not recognize. She was chatting with Jack, sipping a cup of tea and flipping through the notebook Jack has been carrying around for a while. Her hair was cropped short and she wore a shirt and trousers, she looked up and exploded in a flurry of motion when they entered.

“Gavin! There you are!” She charged at him and caught him around the neck, rubbing her knuckles into his already unkempt, flyaway hair. He groaned and tried to shake her off, but ultimately gave up as she dragged him to the side. 

“Fiona, ow! Jesus— you’re getting stronger.” He choked out as she squeezed him, then let him scurry away from her. He breathed heavily and pressed himself against the opposite wall, trying to stay out of her line of sight in case she attacked him again. 

She smiled broadly at Michael and extended a hand to shake. He took it, and was surprised by the strength of her grip and the enthusiasm that she shook their hands with. “Hi, I’m Fiona. You must be Michael!” She said happily, but when she looked at his face her smile faltered and her eyebrows came together slightly.

Before Michael could react or do much of anything, Jack called over to them.

“Fiona! I have a question for you.”

She let go of Michael quickly and stood behind Jack, leaning over his shoulder to read whatever he was pointing at in the journal. 

Jeremy and Ryan stood behind the counter, talking to each other quietly. Ryan’s arm was wrapped around Jeremy’s shoulder and they laughed easily, they shared a quick, chaste kiss that Ryan was reluctant to pull away from. Jeremy smiled and pushed him away, Ryan just crossed his arms and leant against the cabinets, watching fondly as Jeremy joined the rest of the group at the table.

“So.” Fiona’s voice floated above everyone else’s, they all quieted down to listen. She sat down in the chair between Jeremy and Gavin, not before punching them both in the arm for no apparent reason. Gavin scowled and rubbed his arm, Jeremy just rolled his eyes. She cleared her throat. “I saw Ray. He has his work cut out for him, Dawsbury is fucking crawling with demons right now.”

“Does he know about Jon?” Jack asked, and Fiona’s eyes went wide.

“ _You_ do?” 

“Yeah, a demon named Alfredo was here and helped us fight off Kovic. He told us everything, he claims that he’s been rehabilitated.”

Fiona sat back in her seat. “Damn. I thought I was here bringing big news. Yeah, Ray said he was contacted by a demon who said he was on our side. Uh, Matt. That was his name.”

“I knew he’d know about as much as us.” Jack muttered, he closed his journal with a snap.

“Well, Dawsbury is under lockdown right now because humans are going missing. Like, a lot. Every night there are more people vanishing from their homes, and every day the demons get stronger.” Fiona said slowly, her hands fidgeted in her lap. “Ray said he’s heard some rumors that Astuk is running again, which would explain the disappearances, and why the demons are getting more and more powerful.”

Jack sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “Of course.”

“Uh, when I saw Adam— Kovic, the first time, one of the demons with him mentioned Astuk. I think Ray’s right.” Michael said, Fiona’s eyes turned to him and she looked disturbed again.

“So you’re Michael? I thought you were a human.” She said. It wasn’t so much accusatory, just confused. 

Michael, equally as puzzled, replied, “I… I am. Human.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes at him and clicked her tongue ambiguously.

“What’s up, Fiona?” Jeremy asked.

She shrugged. “Your soul is a little stained for a human is all.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” There was an edge in Michael’s voice, he was done getting accused of having to do with any of this, if that’s where she was going.

She raised her hands up in surrender. “Hey, I believe you. I just— my ability is being able to see souls, and yours is just weird. Usually human souls are white, yours is gray.” She squinted at him again. “Yeah, it’s a little gray. Not much, but definitely not white. I’ve never seen that color before.”

Everyone was looking at him as if they would be able to see it too. Michael felt strange, he didn’t know what that entailed. Embarrassed, he snapped, “Stop fucking looking at me.”

“What could that mean?” Ryan asked, he was carefully peeling an orange in one long, thin strip. He stood at the counter still, behind a sack of flour Jack just brought back from Hollyhead. He was distracted throughout their conversation but now paid close attention.

Fiona shrugged again, casually. “I don’t know, I’m no expert. I can just see it.”

The room was stiflingly quiet for a moment before Gavin cleared his throat. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? He’s human.”

“It _doesn’t_ matter. Michael?” Jeremy reached over and jostled his arm. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Whatever.” He paused and shook his head, it wasn’t the time to have an identity crisis. “Anyway, we’re still in the same position. Ray knows about Jon, but what do we do about it?”

No one spoke. It was a complicated situation, there were no moves they could really make to remedy anything. There were still too many unknowns; where Jon was hiding out, how he planned to be resurrected without his teeth, or how to bring down an organization of demons that were slowly taking over the kingdom.

“Wish I could tell Geoff any of this, he might know.” Fiona said quietly. Jack’s face tightened, he smiled weakly.

“We’ll tell him when he wakes up, but in the meantime we’ll figure something out.”

Fiona nodded and stood up. “Well, let me know if you guys formulate a plan or anything. I have to get going, I was going to spread the word and see if anyone else knows anything.”

Jack copied her movement, he rose from his seat. “I think that’s a good idea. Thank you so much, we really appreciate you doing this.”

She scoffed and waved her hand. “Don’t thank me, it’s fine.” She rounded on Gavin once more, throwing her arms around his neck and shaking him around in his seat. He squawked and squirmed but she just smiled. “Plus, I get to see you guys! It’s been so long.”

“You’re the one who went off to Cardine!” Gavin shouted, trying to bat her away. Michael laughed at the easy way she threw Gavin around, he definitely met his troublemaking match.

“Yeah, and it was a great time. But I’m back now, you better watch out.” She whispered the last part threateningly in his ear and he shoved her away, rubbing the side of his face as if she left germs there.

Jack crossed the room and they hugged briefly, she went around and said bye to everyone else in the room until she got to Michael. At that point everyone started to disperse, except Gavin who still sat in his seat at the table.

“It was nice to meet you, Michael. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, you just surprised me.” She said it earnestly, Michael felt embarrassed about the way he reacted. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m still getting used to all of this, you’re good.”

She smiled and shook his hand. “You’ll see me again, these guys can’t get enough of me.” She turned and winked at Gavin, who stuck his tongue out at her.

“Yeah, right!”

She jumped forward and raised her fist at him and he flinched, and she laughed heartily. He pouted and slouched in his seat.

“Aw, come on Gavin. I would never hurt you.” She tousled his hair, her ringed fingers snagging slightly, but he didn’t react.

He smirked. “You could try.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Oh, are we gonna have to fight? Don’t you remember last time, I kicked your ass!” Gavin shook his head aggressively and grabbed the arms of the chair, locking himself in place. She nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Gavin snapped, but his smile was not so well hidden.

She glared at him. “Yeah, but you watch your back.” She turned to Michael again. “Nice seeing you. Keep an eye on him for me.” She jammed her thumb in Gavin’s direction.

“I’ll try my best.” Michael chuckled.

With one last wave goodbye, she turned on her heel and all but skipped out the door. She was full of a bright energy that Michael had never seen in anyone before. The humans he interacted with in Cirrane and elsewhere were usually bogged down with baggage unseen, and didn’t smile much. Even having just met Fiona, and his first impression of her being accused of not being human, he already liked her.

“What a lunatic.” Gavin said, but there was an unmistakable fondness in his voice. 

“Yeah, you two have that in common.” Michael said, and Gavin threw a stray piece of cork that he had been fiddling with at his head. Michael sputtered, he didn’t see it coming and it hit him right on the lip.

“What the fuck, Gavin?” Michael shouted, and Gavin just laughed breathlessly, his legs kicking under the table. “You think you’re so funny?”

Gavin, still cackling, nodded his head. Michael leaned back and crossed his arms, an evil plan formulated in his head. He shrugged casually.

“No, yeah, that’s fine. Just don’t be surprised when you wake up to a faceful of wet bread in the middle of the night.”

Gavin’s laughter stopped abruptly and his eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I think I would.”

“Michael, you can’t. I’ll—” He gagged violently and Michael burst out a laugh.

“What, just the thought of it makes you throw up? Come on, man.”

“It’s so gross.” Gavin choked, and ran out of the house into the yard in case he actually threw up. Michael shook his head and sat back in the chair, his aching back protesting against the stiff wooden seat but he relaxed anyway. Any thoughts or worries were shoved to the side and he looked up at the sagging ceiling and smiled.

  
  
  
  


Later that night, in his dark room, Michael couldn’t sleep for the life of him. He laid in his bed waiting for the darkness to take his consciousness out of his hands, so he couldn’t infect it with his dirty thoughts and anxieties. He squeezed his eyes closed and counted to three thousand six hundred twenty-four, then lost track. He sat up in bed and craned his neck to look outside, he kept expecting to see more demons crowding the yard every time he checked. There was nothing, just the moon-lit grass swaying in the midnight breeze.

He stood up and stretched his weary body, he had been laying down trying to sleep for so long but he supposed it wasn’t in the cards for tonight. The mirror above the washbasin reflected his curved frame, he stared at his face, trying to recognize himself. There was no gray halo around him, or whatever it was Fiona saw. 

Maybe she was right, perhaps he wasn’t as human as he thought. He didn’t know what that meant, he didn’t feel like anything else than human. No magic powers, no feeling inside that he was anything other than what he always knew himself to be. Splashing his face with the lukewarm water in the pitcher, he scrubbed at his cheeks to bring some life back to them. 

There was a light bumping noise through the walls, and a noise like glass shattering. 

Curious, he opened his bedroom door with a loud creak. There was light coming from under the door to Ryan’s lab. Ryan, he knew, was also prone to insomnia and was often awake when the others were not. Craving company, Michael decided to see what the commotion was about. He knocked softly on the door and waited.

The doorknob jiggled in place, then the door swung open. Ryan stood there, surprise evident on his face. There were colorful smudges on his stubbled cheeks and he wore his night clothes, his hair was sticking up at odd angles. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags underneath them were dark, he obviously hadn’t slept in a while. His hand rested on the doorknob, he shook himself out of his surprise when Michael smiled awkwardly.

“I was awake and uh… heard a crash. Everything alright?” Michael asked, shuffling his feet.

“Oh! Yes! I just dropped a vial.” 

Michael peeked around Ryan’s shoulder at the disaster that became of his lab. Papers, pieces of cloth, and dried herbs were scattered all over the floor and his shelves, once so meticulously organized, were in disarray. The lighting was low and the candles in those detailed candelabras were burned low to the wick.

“What are you up to in here?” Michael asked, hoping he wouldn’t just shut him out. Ryan tended to be secretive with some of his experiments, but he stepped back with a sigh, inviting Michael in.

“Well, I’ve been working on the resurrection spell, it’s more complicated than I thought.” Michael entered and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He stepped around the pile of splintered glass on the ground and followed Ryan deeper into the room, to the desk crowded with papers with symbols and equations scribbled on them. Ryan continued, “Meg dabbles in spells as well, she had lots of books that I took notes from. I was so foolish, I thought I could use a simple spell to bring back a creature with sentience. I’ve been experimenting with different potions to…” He stopped suddenly and turned to Michael, sheepish. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s okay! I asked.”

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck and snatched a paper from the desk. “Actually, I was able to bring my subject back for a while, but it displayed incredible strength and viciousness. It wasn’t right, I think the spell I was using in combination with the potions was causing some kind of mental instability. It was trying to communicate, but I terminated it. Still a ways to go.” 

Michael touched the side of the metal contraption to his left, the smooth surface was cold against his fingertips. It was significantly cooler in there than in the rest of the house, on a night like this.

“So, what are you doing this for? The resurrection spell.” Michael asked. He knew Ryan once said he was searching for a cure for vampirism, but there must have been a reason he was so bent on bringing a creature back to life.

Ryan paused, looking at Michael over the top of the paper he was reading. “It’s always a concern that one of us will die, especially now.” He said it carefully, his voice low. “If I can, I’d like to prevent that. Or, better, bypass the bodily functions that make us susceptible to injuries or illness.”

Michael listened carefully, rolling the words around in his head. “Like, forever?”

“If I can manage it. At the very least, I’d like to find a way to reanimate a creature and return its original consciousness with no lasting effects.”

Michael thought of Geoff, how he was barely able to leave his bed. Sometimes he woke up in the night to Geoff shouting incomprehensibly through the walls, at a spectre or otherwise, his voice crackling and terrified. He knew Jack was there at his side; on nights like that Jack always appeared in the morning looking like he hadn’t slept a wink, but he continued on and smiled as if it was his job to comfort them and assure that Geoff would be back on his feet soon. As much as he said it, no one believed him. There was a certain melancholy that descended on them since Geoff’s episode after Adam’s forces were driven off, not quite hopeless, but close enough. Ryan’s motives were suddenly clear to him.

Tentatively, Michael asked, “You think Geoff would want that?”

Ryan turned and put the paper down. “I brought it up a long time ago, he thinks the idea is ridiculous. But I’m so _close_ , I know it will work. I have to try.”

Michael nodded. He understood Ryan’s attempts to delay the inevitable, with his health potions and obsession with trying to cure whatever it was that was afflicting Geoff. He remembered what Ryan said when he and Gavin witnessed his first attempt to bring the vampire back, how he hoped it would be a biological reset. Bringing something back from the dead, and by doing that: eliminating the disease that already wracked the body and won.

“It’s a precaution. It might not come to that.” Ryan said, and offered a smile. “He’s strong, as much as it doesn’t seem so now. He’s been through bouts such as this and survived.”

Michael felt the question at the tip of his tongue, then, _what exactly is going on?_ He couldn’t bring himself to ask, it felt like if he knew it would make it that much worse, that much more unavoidable. As cowardly as he felt, he knew that knowing would mean endless worry, and there would be nothing he could do to remedy it.

Ryan interrupted his reverie, asking, “So, why are you awake at such an hour? Not just to keep me company?” A teasing lilt invaded his tone, and Michael looked up to see a sly smile turning the corners of his lips. He was sitting on the edge of the desk, his strong arms crossed.

“Just couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking… no. Just not very tired.” Michael stopped himself from telling the truth he knew, that he couldn’t stop thinking of that record book, his family; and that mystery of his soul. The gray that should have been pure white, according to Fiona. What it could mean, what it meant about his identity that he thought he knew so well. 

Ryan, ever perceptive, seemed to understand. He turned without a word and crossed the room to his wall of drawers, all small, deep wooden boxes with intricately drawn labels on the front. They each seemed to hold specific herbs and preserved plant matter. He began rummaging through them, picking sprigs from several drawers and collecting them in his hand.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked as the faerie then dropped his handful into a mortar and pestle and began grinding them up. There was an entire desk dedicated to his potion-making; complete with pitchers of liquid that varied in color, many beakers filled with powders and small pebbles, and stacks of whole, dried oak leaves.

Ryan poured the fine powder into a small, closely-woven sachet, followed by a clear, crystalline sand, then a couple sprigs of some purple flowering plant. He smiled as he handed the bag to Michael.

“To help you sleep. Keep it under your pillow.”

Michael rolled it around in his hand. The perfume struck him, it was sweet and flowery and made something calm press into his chest. 

“Thank you.” Michael didn’t know what else to say, it was a kind gesture that he wasn’t expecting. 

“Of course.” He paused, then turned back towards the potion stand. “You know, worrying about who— or what you are is time wasted. You are what you do and what you believe in, not some name in a book, or color of your soul.”

Michael was taken aback at the frankness Ryan displayed, he gripped the sachet and felt the contents crunch between his fingers.

Ryan continued, casually cleaning up the mess he made of his desk. “It took me a long time to disassociate myself with what I had done in the past, to realize that I am no longer the man who would do anything to hurt someone, to bring them to my level of madness. I thought I was rotten, tainted by what I did.”

He turned to Michael then, a small smile on his face. “Just because you think you are a monster, or worried you aren’t who you thought you were— it doesn’t make you bad. You’re doing good, so you are good.”

Michael, shocked, just looked at him. “Can you read minds? Like Gavin?”

Ryan chuckled. “No. I just figured that is what’s plaguing you. You have learned a lot in these past few months, about yourself and this world, and I know it’s hard to understand.” He spoke earnestly, his blue eyes bore into Michael and he felt like he could see straight through him. “Whatever revelations you make in this process, just know that what you are doesn’t matter. You’re trying to stop this war from starting, you’re protecting people.”

Michael looked at the ground, letting Ryan’s words sink in. He supposed that whether or not he was truly human, if there was something deeper wrong with him; it didn’t matter much, as long as he wasn’t on the dark side of things. Ryan was right, he was wasting time and sleep and energy worrying about things that he couldn’t change.

“Thanks, Ryan.”

Ryan just nodded and collected some scattered papers from his desk, he crumpled them up and tossed them in the direction of the wastebasket. 

Michael thought about what he said about his believing he was a monster, and grew curious. Gavin told him that Ryan didn’t use his ability, and hadn’t revealed what it was to any of them. 

“You’re protecting people, too.” Michael offered, and poked a vial that was on the verge of falling off its shelf. It rolled to the side and hit another with a small _clink_. “You do good all the time.”

Ryan didn’t say anything, but he moved slower, more deliberately. His hands stopped and rested flat on the desk, upon his numerous papers and diagrams laid out on the wood.

“I do my best.” He said simply, then looked up at the ceiling. “I think a good night’s rest will do us both good.”

Michael nodded. He shook the bag in his hand. “Thank you for this.” He meant more than just the herbs, but Ryan seemed to understand. He smiled warmly.

“You’re welcome. It worked for Gavin, let me know how you fare.”

Michael ducked his head and said goodnight, then crossed the room to the door. As he opened it, the candles snuffed out all at the same time. Ryan came up behind him and they left the lab. Ryan locked the door behind him and slipped into the room he shared with Jeremy, the hallway was dark and Michael returned to his own room.

He went to close the curtain in front of his window, and noticed a small, thin black book sitting on his desk. It was vaguely familiar to him, he picked it up and on the front it said _Letters from the Crow_. He sat down on his bed, book in hand, and opened it. 

The first page was blank, save for a splattering, deep mark in the center of the page. The pages were thin and old, and as he flipped through the book, they were each in varying states of wear and tear. Each page was a hand-written letter, but the names of the recipient and sender were crossed out. 

He went back to the first page, and felt the deep score as if someone poked it so hard that the nib of their pen broke. He turned the page and couldn’t help himself from reading it.

_Dear friend,_

_I am on a boat, on my way to Cullfield. Our troops, including mine, will be marching into one of the outward settlements of the enemy’s empire later this week. The lieutenant promises that it will be a grand battle but all of the men just look scared. Some of them are very young, a boy no older than twenty has been seasick for two days now. His face is yellow and his eyes are swampy, like green mud. He was drafted, I can tell he doesn’t want to fight. I don’t think I will see him again after this upcoming battle. I know that’s terrible to say, and I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. He won’t make it, he will either waste away on this boat or die in battle. The other men in my platoon are more capable, they have seen war. They are torn and one is teaching me how to wield a weapon, I will show you when I return, it’s very impressive._

_Our trip over the sea will last two more days and after that we will travel to the city Cullfield. It is on the border between our world and Hell, we will march the next day. One of the men explained that demons can curse with a single touch, I don’t think I believe him. I have never seen a demon. I read once that they are red skinned with scales and do not wear clothes, I do not believe that either. They have been known to sneak into our ranks and destroy entire troops, they can’t be that conspicuous looking. I will find out soon, I suppose._

_If I do not return, carry on living as normal. Miss Fare next door promised me that you would be taken care of, she will not break her promise. Our rations here are small, I can’t imagine how yours are at home. Take care, I hope to hear from you soon._

_Yours, ——_

_Dear friend,_

_I read your letter this morning, I am very glad to hear from you. We have just eliminated a threat in a ghoul establishment, they were harboring the enemy. Therefore they were the enemy, but ghouls are distasteful anyway. Inside their shelters were stocks of stinking meat and animals, but nothing else of note. The stench will not come out of my uniform, nor the other men’s. I’m surprised the other platoons have not complained of our smell. Other tasks have been much more pleasant -- or, more pleasant._

_One of the men here has been training me to fight rather than defend, he reminds me of you in some ways. Definitely taller, I’d have to say. He gave me his sword, it’s heavier and sharper than the first issue I was assigned. I have not managed to wield it properly yet, but we have time before our next raid in Lindow. The situation there is dire, we will arrive well before the next week. The lieutenant said that the battle will be a gruesome one, for the city has become a major quarters for some of the more powerful creatures. The humans still alive there are enslaved and those who have been killed are being harvested and used for purposes even we have not yet seen. I will be careful, and I will write to you when I have returned._

_Yours, ——_

_Dear friend,_

_I received your letter, it was very nice to read while I am in the trenches. There is not much light down here but I was able to strike a match during a quiet moment and read it. I am glad you are well, and to answer your inquiry: I do miss home. I’d rather be farming on the hottest day of the century than be down here, dirty and hungry and homesick. It is something I must do, though. You know that, and I am very glad you understand why I am here._

_As far as I know and as far as the lieutenant is informing us — we are losing. This battle, anyway. Our men are dropping like flies and I wish I didn’t have to watch them and drag their bodies around like heavy flour sacks. My sword is no longer reflective and new and I no longer pride myself in my ability to wield it. A demon found its way into our barracks yesterday and I slew it, it was not my first kill of this war. It looked no different than you or I, it had sun-beaten skin and eyes that stared at me just as any creature’s would. Its blood was redder than anything and the cleanup was horrible. I hope this didn’t upset you._

_Yours, ——_

_Dear friend,_

_I apologize for the long wait, I have been without the ability to write for several weeks. A plague infected nearly everyone in the barracks, myself included. We were taken from the trenches to a hospital in Cullfield, but it was raided by enemy troops days prior. We were treated but without the proper medicine and supplies the healing took longer than it would have otherwise. The battle was lost in our absence and the enemy has inched closer to the city. Humans have been for the most part evacuated into the further parts of the city and hidden from danger, but they attack us. They are like children, frightened and delicate. The doctor and I were speaking and he says that they are very easily possessed and convinced, that is why they have been targeted. They have malleable minds, he says._

_I am due back to service in three days, so by the time this reaches you I should be in the middle of retraining. The lieutenant has been making the men run more rounds, I have been told. We are due to fight again outside of Gala, an overnight journey, soon. I will write again as soon as I am able._

_Yours, ——_

_My dear friend,_

_Your letters are a gift and I am grateful for your kind words. I do hope you have kept the garden up so you can eat, I know how you hate gardening. Please take care of yourself while I am gone, I couldn’t bear it if you fell ill or let yourself starve._

_The humans who live in this area of the city are mean folk, I was told they are from a different kingdom and were forced here, and they believe we are the cause. They jeer at us as we walk down the road, I wish they knew we are only trying to protect them. I am not one to be bothered by unkind words, you know that, but some of the boys alongside me are just that — boys, and I worry they will not fare as well. You would laugh at me, the amount of worry I spend on them._

_We are leaving for Gala in the morning and will reach it by nightfall. The morning after, we charge. I hope I will be able to receive another letter from you._

_Yours, ——_

_Dear friend,_

_I write to you as I am grieving. The battle was not won, but I survive. Our army is ill-prepared in the face of our enemy. There are few men left in my platoon, but we will be provided with more draftees from the settlements in the West. We will begin our travel to the next kingdom tomorrow but such a journey will last a fortnight. I will write to you as soon as I possibly can, I promise. Snow is beginning to fall, I assume it has already come and passed at home. I hope you are well._

_Yours, ——_

_Dear friend,_

_We cleared out a vampire clan in the outskirts of Stawford. They were inbred, we were unable to speak with them. I felt no joy during the process of it, but I do what I must. My illness has returned but we cannot afford to have a single soldier at camp during the battle. The situation is a deplorable one, but we mustn't lose hope. I am glad you are well, do not be concerned._

_Yours, ——_

Michael’s eyes began to blur, the night was catching up with him. These letters were obviously from the war, though they weren’t dated. He felt strange, whoever wrote these letters was obviously not human, probably some fae or the like. Geoff told him that there were many creatures fighting alongside the humans, but they were attacked just like the demons. 

He closed the book and tucked it under his bed. The sachet Ryan gave him was resting next to his hand, he placed it under his pillow and set his head down to sleep. Whether it was from exhaustion or the herbs— he didn’t know, but he fell asleep immediately. He dreamt of war and one soldier, scribbling notes in the trenches to a dear friend.


	14. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning there is a bit of MILD body horror in this one, if that kind of stuff bothers you. anyway, hope you like it.

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

Michael blinked in surprise when fingers snapped in front of his face, and Gavin was looking at him, concerned.

They were wandering in the woods, albeit close to the house, but Gavin suggested that they go out on a stroll, to clear their heads. Michael had to admit, he was beginning to feel cooped up and suffocated, what with the tense and sad atmosphere in the house. Geoff stopped allowing anyone into his room, even Jack, and no one had seen him in several days. Jack was worried out of his mind, he tried not to let it show but Michael could tell the faerie was about to burst. Everyone was waiting on tenterhooks for Geoff to emerge, finally, but that time hadn’t come yet.

It was a beautiful day, the air was starting to cool and the leaves on the trees were browning, crisping, and falling from the branches. The sky was clear and bright light filtered through the shedding branches.

Michael rubbed his eyes, weariness still gripping his body. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was telling an absolutely grand story about how Fiona and I wiped out an entire clan of vampires, but you seem to have other things on your mind.” Gavin said it lightly, then poked Michael’s shoulder. “You okay?”

A yawn escaped Michael’s lips. “I’m fine, just tired.”

“Not sleeping well?”

Michael shrugged. A leaf fell from the sky right in front of his face and he snatched it from the air, it was paper-thin and crumbled in his hands. “Just nightmares.”

It wasn’t a lie, his nights had been filled with vivid dreams and terrors that left him shaken, he would rouse from his sleep several times before giving up entirely. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in forever, it seemed. Most, he couldn’t remember. As dreams do, they wiped themselves from his brain minutes after waking and he was just left with an intense feeling of unease and anxiety. 

Lately, however, his dream took root in his brain and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

He remembered being in a small cave near the water, he could hear the sounds of the waves crashing against the rock face. He was laid on some prickly mat, and above him stood a circle of old women muttering incoherently, their hands splayed above his body, but not touching him. He couldn’t breathe and every intake of breath was hiccuping, raspy, and ultimately unsatisfying. Voices beyond the wall of bodies surrounding him were harsh and they seemed to be arguing, but he could barely hear. No movements he tried to make reflected in the body he was in, he didn’t have the strength to move at all. Fear wracked his mind and he couldn’t understand what was happening around him.

From there, he felt his surroundings warp and he was in that dark forest outside Easthallow, alone. Heavy breathing behind him made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he ran without trying to see what was chasing him. 

A voice sang, tauntingly, calling out to him. It was familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. “Mi-chael! Oh, Mi-chael!” 

With every step his feet felt heavier and the voice behind him grew louder, and when he finally turned around his father was sprinting up to him, eyes black and blood matting his hair. Through his ripped shirt sleeves, Michael could see the deep, vertical slashes on his wrists that were bleeding heavily and leaving a sickly red trail behind him. Above him, perched delicately in a tree, was Adam, staring down with an evil grin on his face.

Michael woke with a start, his breath tearing out of him as if someone was just choking him. He gulped in mouthfuls of oxygen but couldn’t calm the rapid beating of his heart, now heavy with the memory of his father and the terrifying sight of Adam, seemingly puppeteering it all. 

That dream had repeated itself for the past few nights and every time there was more detail and it seemed to go on for longer, drawing out his suffering, although it was only in his subconscious. Anxiety and sadness plagued his waking hours, it seemed like he couldn’t escape it no matter what he did.

Gavin stopped walking and turned to Michael with an open, worried expression. Michael wheeled around to face him, feeling exposed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Michael crossed his arms and scoffed. “No, I’m good. It’s nothing really, just… stressed.”

Gavin sidled up to Michael’s side and took his arm. He started walking, but slowed down to Michael’s hesitant pace. His other hand was draped over Michael’s forearm and he squeezed, Michael felt that longing rise in him again.

Gavin spoke softly, his voice barely carrying through the quiet, cool air. “I used to have nightmares every damn night, I know how it feels. Jeremy helped me a lot when I couldn’t get back to sleep, he’d sit with me and let me just… relax.” 

Michael didn’t say anything, just looked at Gavin through the corner of his eye, he was gazing up at the canopy above. He looked good, he was bundled up against the slight chill and his cheeks were flushed, lips chapped. The green wool scarf wrapped around his neck hid the pale expanse of his throat from view and it was suddenly all Michael wanted to see. 

Gavin caught him staring and smiled sweetly. When he spoke again, he squeezed Michael’s arm between his hands. “Next time you can’t sleep, come wake me up. Being awake that late at night alone is no fun.”

“You don’t have to—” Michael began, but Gavin interrupted.

“Yes, I do. Promise you will, Michael.”

Michael felt his cheeks warm and he sighed. “Fine.”

Gavin, pleased, continued walking with a bounce in his step that jostled Michael around. He tried to pull his arm away but Gavin wasn’t so easily shaken off. He was being particularly touchy that day, every chance he got he was all over Michael, either hugging, grabbing, or just brushing him in passing with those long, cold fingers of his. It sent a shock wave through Michael’s skin every time, jolting him back to life.

Their serene, peaceful walk was interrupted by a distant wail, one that stopped them in their tracks. They looked at each other, shocked, listening hard.

It came again, closer that time. It was a woman’s voice, breaking and terrified, her shrieks carried through the air and birds flew from their branches from the disturbance.

“Holy shit, what is that?” Michael asked, hushed. Another shout, deeper that time. An assailant?

“Someone is in trouble. Come on!” Gavin dropped Michael’s arm and sprinted in the direction that the screams came from, Michael pushed off the damp ground and followed.

They ran, dodging trees and undergrowth, the voice was so close now, but no one was in sight. Her cries were so full of terror and pain, as if someone was actively ripping her apart at that moment.

Gavin was a few paces in front of Michael, his strong legs pumping hard, the scarf he wore flapped behind him. Michael took a long stride and the breath was knocked out of him, suddenly, as if he had run into something hard. He stopped, surprised, and something yanked him to the side, his vision went black before he even knew what had happened.

There were no visuals but he knew his eyes were open, he felt the leaf-covered earth beneath him but couldn’t move. Surrounding him was a loud buzzing noise that made his skin prickle, and a figure emerged in front of him in the darkness. Their face was there but he couldn’t recognize it, or put any words to their appearance. There was an indescribable body in front of him.

The voice came into existence slowly, fading in as Michael was able to pay attention. 

“I need your help, please.”

Michael was able to speak, but he couldn’t feel his mouth moving. His voice rang in his ears, echoing as if they stood in a large, empty cavern. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“I need your help. I’ve been banished from my body, I can’t return. I’m in great pain.”

Michael felt the ground sink below him, he didn’t know whether he was standing or sitting. He felt a deep sense of longing in his bones, a longing for something he didn’t know. 

“Geoff ruins lives wherever he goes, he ruined mine. He stole my body from me, please help me.”

“What are you talking about? _Geoff?_ ” Michael was so confused, but the figure in front of him was imploring, something desperate in their voice. 

“He is not who he says he is, please believe me. You’re in danger.”

“I can’t— I don’t even know who you are! What did Geoff do?” Fear and frustration were building in his gut, he felt as if he was just a spirit, floating in the darkness. The figure in front of him stood solid on nothing.

“I’m stuck in a cave. I don’t have much time, a friend of mine lives in the woods near where you are, she could bring you to me. I need a potion of strength brewed with elderberry and divine sage, do you understand?”

“How do I find it?” Michael was sucked into this stranger’s story, he felt urgency to complete this task given to him. Whoever they were, they were in danger, he could feel it.

“You’ll know, there will be white. Please help me. Be wary of Geoff.”

At that, the figure and their voice faded from Michael’s view, and he was alone in that calm, weightless darkness that held him aloft. He called out, trying to figure out where he was or how to escape, but no one answered and his voice was drowned by that ear-splitting static once again.

As the noise faded, he felt himself coming slowly back to reality. He felt the soft forest ground beneath him once again, and through it he heard Gavin.

“Oh, God. Michael, what happened? Please wake up.”

He wanted to call out, to tell him that he was okay, but he couldn’t. Somewhere, he felt hands grasping him, patting him down and touching his face.

“Michael?” Gavin sounded desperate, his voice cracked in a way that made Michael’s heart ache. He felt a soft hand on his cheek and wanted nothing more than to hold it there, to feel the warmth and assuage that fear that was so evident in his voice. 

As if God, or whoever, heard his prayer; he blinked his eyes and bright light from above blinded him and he squeezed them shut again. He moved his hand and was relieved when it made contact with Gavin, he felt the faerie’s wrist and squeezed.

“Christ, what happened to you?” His voice sounded panicked, he tried to retract his hand from Michael’s face but he tightened his grip, holding it there.

Michael opened his eyes, finally, and let them adjust. The first thing he saw was Gavin’s face, hovering above his, confusion and distress plaguing his soft features. His scarf dangled down and ticked the base of Michael’s throat.

“I don’t know.” He said, and it was true. He didn’t know what happened, only that he was visited by some specter who asked for his help. He decided, then, not to share that information, at least until he figured out what he would do. 

Instead, despite his fear in doing so, he reached up with his other hand and touched Gavin’s cheek. He did it softly, his movements unsure, but Gavin leant into the touch and sighed. Glassy tears gathered in his eyes and he wiped them away quickly, and released a sharp, embarrassed laugh. 

“I thought something horrible happened to you, you dope.”

Michael brushed his thumb on Gavin’s cheekbone and felt himself take in a sharp breath, he really was beautiful. He had wanted to touch him like this for so long, every time he thought he gathered up the courage, he chickened out. Now, he didn’t know how he could stop himself. 

“Something hit me and I just… went down, I guess.” Michael said, distracted by their closeness and the earnest, shy look in Gavin’s eyes.

“Did you see what did it?” 

Michael shook his head and let his hand drop. Then something occurred to him, he sat up quickly and tried not to knock Gavin over in the process. “Wait, what happened with that woman? Did you find her?”

Gavin sat back and shook his head. “I looked everywhere, I couldn’t find her. She stopped screaming and I lost track of where it was coming from. Then I realized you weren’t behind me.”

Michael paused, wondering if she died at the hand of whatever was attacking her. Gavin was looking at him strangely, as if he was holding something back. He chewed on his lip, knelt down in the dirt.

“What?” Michael asked.

Gavin, instead of replying, launched himself forward into Michael’s arms and embraced him tightly, nearly knocking him onto his back. Surprised, Michael slowly wrapped his arms around him and held him close, feeling breathless. Warmth spread through his chest and he couldn’t help the smile that appeared, pushing his anxieties away. He didn’t realize how much he wanted this, he was afraid he would unravel if they parted. He buried his face in the crook of Gavin’s neck and breathed in, he smelled like pine trees and something sweet and earthy. 

Something in his brain was shouting at him, screaming for him to stop, to back up and rethink what was happening; but he studiously ignored it in favor of running his fingers through the hair at the nape of Gavin's neck. It was soft like down feathers and he could have sat there and done it forever.

“I’m glad you’re alright.” Gavin said, his voice muffled. His hands gripped the back of Michael’s cloak and he made no signs of wanting to let go, which Michael was grateful for. As much as he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t too bothered by everything that was happening; the demons gathering, Geoff’s illness and supposed lies, his nightmares keeping him awake— he felt entirely crushed by it all. Sitting there with Gavin in his arms, surrounded by birdsong and soft sunlight, he felt truly happy for the first time in a long time.

Michael didn’t respond, just held him tighter, not wanting this moment to end.

  
  


When they returned to the house, Gavin insisted that Michael go and rest. 

“You’re dead on your feet, just go sleep for a while.”

“I’m fine.” Michael rolled his eyes, but felt exhaustion creeping up on him. Gavin shook his head and shoved him towards the staircase, his face stern.

“Go.” It was an order, one that Michael begrudgingly obeyed. He trudged up the stairs and into his room, where he promptly fell face-first into his bed. His entire body was screaming for sleep, his eyelids weighed a hundred pounds and it was almost too much energy to expend to flip around on his bed until he was facing the ceiling.

His eyes slipped closed and immediately his overactive brain forced them open, he remembered what that figure in his vision said about Geoff not being who he said he was. It couldn’t be true, how was he supposed to know if this person was trustworthy or not? They seemed genuine enough, Michael vividly remembered the urgency and desperation in their voice, and the warning on Michael’s behalf. 

Maybe it was just a hallucination, nothing to worry about. However, something deep and dark inside Michael told him that there was something more sinister happening.

He groaned and shoved the pillow onto his face, wanting nothing more than sleep to overcome him so he could get a break from having to make these hard decisions, or make up his mind on who he trusted or not. He thought he trusted Geoff, he had done so much for him already; but something about that conversation, if it was true, lit a flame of curiosity in him. 

His arm dangled off the side of his bed and brushed something underneath, he grabbed it and remembered that he had tucked that book, _Letters from the Crow_ , down there. He rubbed his fingers over the soft cover and decided to read a bit more of it to distract himself before he succumbed to his overtired brain.

He opened to the page he left off on and began to read, sitting back against his headboard.

_Dear friend,_

_I take this opportunity to write you a note, our ranks are growing larger and the battles more chaotic. The enemy is growing as well, they are more calculated. A city has been taken from us but you know that already, I assume. I do not know what we are fighting anymore, they are no longer just a band of demons and the likes. The lieutenant mentions a word, he says Crow. I do not know what it means._

_Our plan is to attack the enemy as they march towards Caister with full force. Our troop has grown exponentially since our defeat in Gala, and we will be stationed in the critical zone to charge. Since gaining so many soldiers, the lieutenant has been having trouble keeping the peace within the separate platoons and different species, but I am confident that our forces can come together and crush the army heading for Caister._

_I have made a friend, he’s an elf. Can you believe it? An elf, taking the time to fight for humankind. I suppose it’s not just their fight anymore, but nonetheless. He is very intelligent and the lieutenant listens to him, and he is impressively tall. He leant me the ink to write this, so we are indebted to him now. Ha, ha._

_I’m glad you’re okay, I miss you terribly. Sleeping alone in the trenches or in sacks at the camp just makes me miss you more. I don’t know when I will be home, the higher-ups stopped promising anything. Please write back soon._

_Forever yours, ——_

_Dear friend,_

_We received a message today saying the human city Cardine has been invaded. The lieutenant is worried, I know. He told me that the troops stationed near the city will attack presently, I know nothing more._

_We received another shipment of recruits, they are strong and equipped and one, especially, caught my eye. He seems to be ranks above us, a proper leader of the platoon. The lieutenant regards him fondly and I can only hope he is what the lieutenant makes him out to be._

_Oh, to answer your question: the first ambush of Caister went well. We were able to push them back, almost completely out of the lowlands. They have the upper ground now, but so far there have been no issues, and we get closer every battle._

_Take care of your cough, have Miss Fare help you make some medicine. Marshmallow root and ginger does wonders for the throat, try that. Take care of yourself, I miss you._

_Yours, ——_

_Dear friend_

_I hope you are well, your letters are welcome visitors. The new man calls himself a general, he is a deal stricter than the lieutenant. The lieutenant, himself, is looking ill as of late. We have sent for a doctor but they are as sparse as every other commodity at the moment. The general has been leading us, running drafts, and ordering attacks. He is charming, he smiles with teeth and his uniform is pressed._

_We are to march tomorrow, there is a large battle ahead of us. The largest we have encountered yet; all militias and troops in the vicinity are to report to Norbury on the 8th. We are on the front lines, for we are one of the largest troops in the area. The general informed us that we will win, there is no chance the army waiting will be prepared for us. I am doubtful, for I have information that Norbury has become a headquarters for the enemy. The humans are missing, and illness has spread through neighboring platoons. My own illness has kept me from various duties and training sessions, but it doesn’t seem to be contagious. I have slept for twenty-seven hours at a time as of late. If I am lucky, they will send me back home if my condition worsens. It is a terrible thing to wish for, but I have seen enough of this war. There are too many hidden facts they are not telling us, all we know is that we are fighting and after the creatures are finished with the humans, we will be next. I do not wish to see a world ruled by these demons but I have had my fill of blood and this animalistic violence that is forced upon me. I want to return home to you but not as a corpse._

_Yours, I hope to see you soon_

_Dear friend._

_The lieutenant has died, the general said he is taking his place. The battle in Norbury was lost and many of our troops were eliminated. We thought the enemy was weakened, but they seem to be stronger than ever. Many in my platoon were captured and carted off to Astuk, I can only imagine the horrors they are experiencing. I don’t know how much more my heart can take._

_Several other platoons are under the general’s control, he is very confident._

_I am doing better, my affliction is no longer keeping me from battle. It has diminished to a lingering cough and some discomfort while sleeping, but nothing I cannot handle. I am lucky to be alive, many others I have known were not so fortunate._

_Yours,_

_Dear friend,_

_Our general, a stocky and trustworthy man of Elven descent, has been acting strangely. Normally, before a battle he will talk to the men and make sure we are informed of the tactical plan and are well and able to fight. However, we are camped by a river next to Fieldfarrow for the night and he is nowhere to be found. I am the only one awake right now, it seems, and I have watched his tent and he has not returned to it yet._

_I have noticed his behavior over the past few weeks has been bizarre. He takes his ration away to eat in private, which he never did before. He is aloof, skittish, and exponentially more aggressive in battle. I suppose the latter could be a good thing, if he stopped after the fighting is done. He will remain angry and combative for hours or even days after, which has caused many of the men to become angry themselves. More fights have broken out in the platoons between races especially, the tension is making battle increasingly difficult._

_I am nervous about this upcoming battle in Stawford. Not only is our general nowhere to be found, there’s infighting, and there is supposedly a large, aggressive army hiding within its newly reinforced walls. It is one of the first cities to be captured by the Crow, and has stayed in their possession the entire war to date. We hope to begin pushing them back and out, for it is at the edge of the witch-controlled forest and gives our army a better vantage point. There are many supplies hoarded there as well, supplies we desperately need._

_Sorry I rarely have good news to deliver. I’d love to send you a letter, one with three words on it: I’m coming home! However, this is far from over, and I cannot imagine a scenario that I will be returning alive any time soon. As miserable as I am now, I am growing stronger. I no longer flinch in the face of danger, and my fighting skills are exemplary, the general has taken a special interest in me._

_Glad to hear the garden is doing well, it lifts my spirits to read your letters. Please tell me more about the renovations you are working on, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Tell me anything and everything._

_Yours,_

_Dearest friend,_

_Something has come over me. I am not sure what. It happened during battle, a demon caught hold of me and I collapsed in a fit. One of my fellow soldiers dragged me away but the demon could not be found. I do not remember this, there seems to be a blank space in my memory. This was days ago, and ever since then, things have been awry._

_I have a terrible fever but cannot rest, my body is agitated and cannot keep still. Words come from my mouth that are not my own, my limbs move of their own accord. I’m frightened, and the general is suspicious of me. He believes I have been affected by the demons somehow, but that is not possible. Fae are immune to the demonic influence that so disturbs humans. Despite this, he continues to make me fight, and tells me strange things about the enemy, facts that I know but cannot recall when I would like to._

_Forgive my script, I hope you can understand this. Writing is very difficult, my hands move despite my best efforts. I will write again, I will be okay._

_Yours, ——_

_Friend,_

_I have been removed from battle. I am a danger to my platoon, apparently I have killed a fellow soldier. I do not remember this but they don’t believe me, they suspect I have gone rogue. I injured the general when he tried to subdue me, he smiled wide at me with those sharp, white teeth of his. His presence no longer gives me comfort, he only makes me uneasy._

_The days are cold and overcast, they have locked me up at camp. I can hear the noises of battle, of screaming and death. There is only a guard here, he is watching me now as I write this._

_I am sorry. I do not know what will become of me, they say they will send me home but I am not sure they will. Please do not concern yourself with this. I know how you worry. I know you are scared for me. I am scared too, but thoughts of you are keeping me sane. I will see you again, no matter what I have to do._

_Yours, and no one else's._

_Friend,_

_I am seeing visions, I am hearing voices. I cannot move from my bunk, they have tied me here. I do not remember much, but I was told that I explode into violent fits and I have killed another soldier in my platoon. No one talks to me anymore, they feed me elixirs but I cannot keep them down. The sight of the cross frightens me and I feel my body being pushed the other way. It is hard to think, even writing as I am is frustrating, I can barely focus._

_I am so sorry. I do not know if they will let me return home. I don’t know that I want to, I am afraid I will hurt you. I am hurting you now, telling you this, I know. I am so sorry. Please don’t be sad for me, I just worry about you._

_I will fight this as best as I can, but I do not know how much longer I can take it. I am no longer the only presence in my head, in my body._

_Yours forever,_

_Frie nd_

_The general informed , em tht I am not able to continue fifgh figing_

_It is hard. Hard to wri write_

_Take care of y yourslef_

_Yours_

_Dear friend,_

_I have a quiet moment, I am not sure why. I know it is watching through my eyes as I write to you, I’m unnerved and tired and terrified. I am not who I once was, I have changed. This thing parades me around, makes me perform unspeakable actions that I cannot fight. I can only watch helplessly through my own vision, my hands doing this dirty work._

_My mouth is laughing. I wish I could cry, to scream and rip this melon of a head off my shoulders. I want it out, but as soon as my thoughts get too destructive or too loud I am shut out again, forced into a mental cage that I cannot escape. My hands are stained with blood that I can never remove, I am a monster. This body is soiled._

_Please forgive me, I can’t bear the thought of you hating me. Even for this. I will not be returning to you, either I will keep living like this; consumed by rage and surrounded by violence and war, or I will die along with this treacherous body. I feel regret and pain, I know you feel it too. More than anything I wish I could see you one last time, just one last image that I could hold onto._

_I’m laugh gh laugh iong again n._

_Chri s chi chsrist_

_Hch_

_I love you u I lvoe llvo you._

_To you._

_Hello. I do not know who you are, but the creature I infested sure does. He thinks of you kindly, and cries at night for you. Why is that? I never understood these attachments you creatures form, they only make you weak. I suppose you know that by now. He is struggling now as I write this, he does not want me to inform you of what is happening. Tragic, really. He thinks he can control me_ — _control himself._

 _We have received the highest honor of assisting our leader, of doing his personal bidding. It is glorious, despite what you may think. Crushing these small, Godly creatures beneath our hands, tricking them and using them and devouring them… there is nothing quite like it. My previous host was much weaker, the body fat and disabled_ — _this one suits me well. I will not be forced out again, these are my permanent digs._

_I feel as if I know you, from how much this poor sap thinks of you. I would love to see your face as you read this, twisting and contorting when you realize you will never have him again. I almost wish I could receive a letter back, just to hear what you might say to me. Or us, rather. He is mine now._

_More to come._

_To you._

_Attached is a cutting of your dearest’s hair. Well, I wouldn’t say a_ cutting _. Excuse the extra skin and blood, ha, ha._

_We just came back from a battle outside Stawford. Let me tell you, those humans are just adorable. We swept them up and sent them straight to Astuk, they’ll be of more use there. Our body suffered some heavy damage, mostly burns. You should see the state of our face, it’s very gruesome. I can’t say I enjoy it much, but the warmth radiating off this scorched flesh is much preferable than the cuts and lacerations from the blade attacks._

_Our gracious leader has informed us, personally, that we are invited to take part in his sensitive plan, one I will not disclose to you. One must keep some secrets, but it truly was a treat to feel this body’s stomach flop, and nausea rise in its throat. This other occupant doesn’t seem excited about this mission, what a shame. Well, I suppose your friend here can’t very well take his business elsewhere._

_Enjoy the piece of your friend, here._

_See you soon._

_To you._

_Hey there, miss me?_

_It has been so long, I apologize for that. We have been very busy. Excuse the state of this paper, we made a mess of some human general and I fear the spray reached this scrap._

_The High One trusts us dearly, our leader is so generous. He allows us to travel, and lead grand attacks on these weak, unequipped settlements. I have never felt such joy as this. Just this morning, we tore apart this boy who pointed his pathetic weapon at us. I am no poet, but the carnage was exemplary. His heart was particularly soft and delicious, the other presence sharing this body with me tried his hardest to steer me in the other direction but he should know better than to resist, at this point. I did not even need the nutrients, I just know that eating the innards is especially repulsive for him. The boy, he nicked us with his sword, but this body is so elastic. The skin peels right off, cuts and bruises heal so quickly._

_Well, I don’t suppose any more notes will be necessary. Your friend here is weak, he sits mostly dormant in this body now. He tries to ignore what is happening but I know better than anyone, he is forced to experience it. I will leave you with this fact: he is unwell. Tortured, unable to accept that these actions are performed by someone with his face, his voice._

_If our forces haven’t reached you yet_ — _they will. I only hope that we will have the chance to meet properly. I’d like nothing more than to be the last thing you see._

_Goodbye._

Michael closed the book slowly, after the last page his stomach turned and he felt quite sick. The paper was adorned with disgusting brown splatters that he supposed were once red, it was so soaked through that the paper buckled and wrinkled. The last few entries were written with completely different handwriting, he supposed that is when the demon took full control over the body.

He shivered deeply and set the book beside him. His eyelids drooped heavily but unease made him twist and turn. He thought of bloodthirsty demons, of someone receiving letters that they hoped were from their dear friend— but only detailed the ways that they were being tortured. 

Something in him felt distrustful and suspicious, but he couldn’t place what. He thought of Geoff again, despite his efforts to block that out of his brain so he could sleep. He didn’t want to believe it, he didn’t know what to think.

Eventually, even though his thoughts were running a mile a minute, he drifted into a restless, unsatisfying sleep. 

The dream started as soon as he lost consciousness, and he wasn’t aware of the shift. He was floating in the air, watching the events unfold around him as if he was a separate, unfeeling entity. He was in the middle of a wasteland, just flat, packed earth cleared of all natural life scattered with bodies and discarded weapons. There were great craters dimpling the surface, the bottom of which was filled with blood and dismembered body parts. It was a gruesome sight, the casualties of this war were great and the stakes were high. Spirits seemed to crowd the area, it was still and bleak and everything was shrouded by a dusty, foggy haze.

It was completely silent, there was a flag in the distance waving. It was black with a red emblem, depicting a crow with its wings outstretched, surrounded by barbed wire. There were two men who walked alone through the warzone, wearing strange, brown armor and thick capes. They had no weapons, but their faces were drawn and scarred. They stepped over corpses with their heavy, steel-toed boots, and one of them, every once in a while, would kick a head or leg out of his way.

When they spoke, they did it with voices that seemed distracted and crackling.

“Our leader will be pleased with us, we are the reason this battle was won.” The first man said. He was large and imposing, the bald top of his head was covered with soot and dark, cancerous spots. He was the one kicking and messing with the bodies they passed, he even laughed at the position of one of them; sitting upright against the side of a large, phallic rock. 

The other man didn’t say anything, his head was ducked and hidden under a hood and his gait was halting. He would stop every once in a while, shake, then march on. His limbs jerked unnaturally and the veins in his neck pulsed outrageously. 

“Hey, look! One of ‘em is still kickin’.” The first man said, and a wicked, disgusting smile filled with brown teeth marred his face. 

They crossed the flatland over to where a soldier, his uniform ripped and burned, shimmied forward on his stomach. One of his legs was blown off, he left a trail of thick, sticky blood behind him as he crawled. He seemed to be a general of some sort, based on his outfit and the gold pins that adorned his breast pockets. Now, his face was caked with dirt and his eyes were flat and dead, he groaned with every movement.

The two men approached the soldier, the larger one stepped in front of him, blocking his path. The soldier cowered, and released a long, low moan. 

His voice was thick and wavering, he whispered, “Please… please help me.”

The man tilted his head and crouched down low to face him. His face was unfriendly and blank, he _tsked_ at the soldier, pleading for his life. “Why would I do that?”

The soldier didn’t have an answer for that, just grabbed the thick black boot in front of him. “Please, I have a family. A daughter.”

The man stood up and kicked the searching hands off him. He turned to the other, standing back, twitching. 

His voice was dull when he said, “Ramsey, take care of this son of a bitch.”

Ramsey shook, and muttered something.

“What was that?” The other man barked, sending a glare the other man’s way. Ramsey shook again.

“Hold on, I’m— he won’t let me move.” Ramsey let out through gritted teeth. A moment later, he jerked forward and sighed, rolling his neck. The hood fell onto his shoulders and his face, once soft and handsome, was sallow and covered with thin cuts and burns. His hair was matted and caked with dirt and blood, as was his overgrown beard. His eyes were wild and unfocused. He smiled a wretched, unnatural smile that moved up and down.

His voice was dark and scratchy when he spoke, “Sorry, this body doesn’t come without setbacks.” He smiled and joined the other man, hovering over the soldier who began his useless, desperate attempt at escape; crawling slowly away. There was a large gouge taken out of his back, ripping up his uniform and showing the bruised, dirty flesh underneath. 

Ramsey looked down at him and glee washed over his features. He lifted a heavy foot and it landed on the soldier’s back, right on the wound. He screamed in agony, and began writhing around weakly.

“No, please, don’t—” Before he could make another plea for his life, Ramsey stomped again, hard. His cry was cut off and Ramsey kicked and kicked until the man was gone. The last shuddering breath left him and tears pooled under his face, pressed into the dirt.

Ramsey didn’t stop, he moved up to his head and kept kicking until his skull parted and blood covered his boot. The soldier was left a bleeding pile at their feet, and the other man chuckled.

“These creatures don’t know up from down, dumb motherfuckers.”

“Yeah.” Ramsey said, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He rubbed it away furiously and jerked again. 

“You all locked down in there?” The other man sounded suspicious, he eyed Ramsey’s form, struggling to keep unanimity in his own head.

“I’m fine… shit! This bastard sure puts up a fight.” He hissed, and thumped the side of his head. “Shut up!”

“You got a faerie, huh?”

Ramsey growled. “Yeah, he’s unrelenting. I’ve never had this much trouble possessing something.”

“Didn’t know it was possible.” The man said slowly, and when Ramsey started walking forward, he blocked his path. He was significantly taller than Ramsey, with a large, muscular build. His eyes bugged and pointed two different directions, his facial hair was coarse and shiny like steel wool, growing in wiry patches on his wide face. He was very ugly, and smelled putrid. 

“How did you do it?” He asked intensely, invading Ramsey’s space.

Ramsey rolled his eyes, finally in control of his tics and mental disobedience. “Are you trying to intimidate me?” 

“Just a simple question. How’d you do it, _Ramsey_?”

Ramsey shoved him hard, his hand pressing into the thick, ropy muscles of the man’s shoulder. The man rocked backward, obviously surprised he was able to displace him. Quickly, anger flooded his face and he stormed up to Ramsey, his face reddening. 

“Who are you, anyway? Jon brings you here, parading you around like you’re some tough shit. What, just because you hitched a ride in some faerie from the resistance? What is your name?” He jammed his pointer finger, hooked, into Ramsey’s chest, screaming in his face. Slick, foul flecks of saliva flew from his mouth as he shouted.

When he stopped screaming, Ramsey slowly wiped his face and looked up at the man with an expression akin to boredom.

“Are you done? Because we have somewhere to be.”

The other man’s fist connected with Ramsey’s face as soon as the last syllable left his mouth. He spun around and careened onto the dusty ground, on top of some stiff corpse. He smiled as he held his hand against his jaw, and let out a horrible laugh that echoed around them.

“That was a good one, could you give me another?”

The other man, enraged, lunged forward and punched him again, so hard he skidded across the ground and landed in a heap a few feet away. The lump shook, and he cackled as he sat up, wobbling slightly. When he smiled, blood was gushing from his nose and stained his teeth and mouth pink.

“More, please.” 

The other man sputtered, hot anger and confusion radiating from his blistered, weathered skin. His eyes, if they were bugging before, were absolutely bulging and blood-shot, now. He roared and kicked Ramsey’s head like a ball. When his boot connected with his face there was a sickening crunch, his head snapped back and, again, he was blown away. 

“You like that, motherfucker?” The man raged, advancing with heavy, confident strides. He grabbed the hair matted on Ramsey’s head, and yanked him up to face him. His face was bludgeoned and covered in blood, but his blue eyes were wide. The man shook him, and seethed, “Tell me, how did you do it?”

Ramsey spit a mouthful of blood into his face, and he threw him to the ground again. He stomped down hard on his head once, twice, then kicked him away.

Ramsey coughed weakly, a raspy, quiet laugh still spilling from his red gash of a mouth. He rolled from his side onto his back, staring blearily up at the sky. He was covered in blood and dirt and his face was almost unrecognizable, every breath came with a thick rattle.

The man towered over him, a pleased, vindictive grin on his ugly face. 

“Looks like you’re not so tough after all.”

He crouched down and poked Ramsey’s open eye, his finger slipping deep into the socket with a disgusting squelch. Rasmey didn’t react, just continued staring. The man frowned and twisted his finger, to no reaction. Before he could pull away or shout again, Ramsey grabbed his shoulders with incredible speed and pulled him down, lining his mouth up with his jugular, and biting down hard. 

The man screamed and flailed, trying to break from Ramsey’s surprisingly iron hold, but it was no use. Blood gushed from the carotid artery and covered the both of them. Very quickly his blood darkened the dusty earth and Rasmey bit down harder, and eventually tore away with a chunk of flesh between his teeth. The man tipped off him and landed with a heavy, limp thud beside him. 

Ramsey groaned and pushed himself up off the ground with great difficulty, he stumbled but quickly righted himself, stiffening as if an electric current ran through him. His hand flexed and his arm shook, he grabbed it and pinned it against his side.

When his attack subsided, he sighed heavily. “Oh, dear. Now a mess. What will I tell Jon?”

He turned and began shambling in the direction they were meant to be headed in, talking to himself with a voice that slowly regained its composition as his face healed with every passing moment. His nose snapped back into place, his fractured cheekbone and jaw rejoined, but the skin was still split and bleeding, albeit lighter than before.

 _“Oh, I couldn’t believe it. He got himself killed during battle, by a human no less. Well, I killed the thing, and won this fight for us.”_ He said it dramatically, waving his hand through the air as if he was speaking to a whole crowd, recounting his story. _“Took out a whole platoon at once, they are nothing but pulp, now.”_

Ramsey walked, talking his own ear off, occasionally jerking and arguing, to the place he knew his leader was waiting for him, awaiting good news about the acquisition of Caister.

He looked down at his blood-stained hands and uniform and smiled, he stuck a red finger into his mouth and hummed as he disappeared into the foggy distance.


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long one this time, hope u like.

The dream left Michael and he was in darkness, soft and enveloping. That voice, the one from the forest, spoke to him. Disembodied, Michael didn’t see any source. Just the velvet black of his inner eyelid.

“You see? Geoff is not who you think he is.”

When Michael’s eyes flew open, he felt sick to his stomach. 

Instantly, he felt betrayed, stupid, and angry. It was Geoff, he was the unknown soldier, impossibly possessed by a demon. He picked up the book, still laid on the blanket beside him with shaking hands. It all made sense; his sickness, his irregular behavior, and the strange, dark void of his eyes when he collapsed all that time ago. 

Something steeled in his brain and his path was clear for the first time. He stood from his bed, still dressed from earlier. When he yanked the curtains in front of his window to the side, it was pitch black outside. The house was quiet.

He knew he was probably insane for wanting to wander into the woods, alone, in the middle of the night to meet a stranger. It occurred to him that it could be a trap or some ruse to pull him into the woods— but he had to know the truth. He had to hear from someone else the facts Geoff didn’t tell him, to confirm his sick suspicions. 

He pulled on his cloak and armed himself with the sword Gavin gave to him, a long, thin rapier with a blue leather sheath. He attached it to his belt and took a deep breath. Guilt crept into his brain but he pushed it to the side. There was no room to feel regret, or sadness, or anything that would make him second-guess himself in his search for the truth. The entire truth, this time. He was done sitting aside and letting information come to him on its own, he was going to go out and get it himself.

He crept out of the house easily, no one was awake to see him leave. As he walked, deeper and deeper into the darkness, inklings of fear invaded his mind. There was no light, even the moon was hiding behind sheets and sheets of dark clouds that prevented that white wash of light from providing him a pathway. He blindly slipped through the large, shedding trees and felt a shiver creep up his spine, the nights were getting colder. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, the stranger from his vision said it was near, and he would see white. What, exactly was white? A sign, a flash, an apparition pointing in the direction he should head towards? He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking, searching for anything.

Small noises came from everywhere, every single one made him jump. He heard giggling, snoring, breathing, footsteps, and twigs snapping. He thought of Adam, and the demons that were apparently missing from the forest. In all their searches, they hadn’t found a trace of a single demon anywhere around the house; and that seemed to have held true. His hand was poised on the hilt of his sword anyway, he walked tentatively, feeling more out of his depth with every step. 

A raspy, quick voice spoke from behind him. “Hey.”

He spun around and unsheathed his sword to find a creature standing behind him, arms crossed. He was about three feet tall and had a beard that dragged on the ground, the white hair catching leaves and dirt in its spongy, springy coils. His face was withered and wrinkled, he looked like a miniature old man with a small, upturned nose. His eyes were hard and glowed in the dark, he wore what looked like a burlap sack with holes cut in it for the arms and legs.

Michael’s breath came in short gasps but he kept his hand steady, the point centered on the creature’s chest.

“What do you want?” Michael demanded, thrusting his sword forward to keep their distance. The small man shrugged and smiled, his teeth were pointed and many were missing. 

“Can I show you something?” He asked, and crooked his finger at Michael.

“No. Get the fuck away from me.” Michael spat and backed up, he swung his sword when the creature took a few steps forward, still wagging his stump of a finger.

“It’s fun, I promise.” He said, his voice teasing and dark. He laughed, it was shrill and loud and made Michael’s nerves fray.

“No. Fuck off!” Michael, again, took a few swings just out of reach. The man ignored him and continued walking towards him, that annoying smile still on his face.

Michael knew he couldn’t get out of this without defending himself. He was nervous because no one was there to back him up, no one even knew he was out here. He didn’t want to die in the forest, unknown and by the hand of some tiny man with no weapon.

He advanced and jabbed his sword down, the creature jumped nimbly to the side and cackled. It was grating and Michael’s temper began to flare, his next few swings were also dodged easily and he was breathing heavy.

“Let me show you something.” The creature said and stood still. His hands were clasped in front of him and he smiled, pleasantly that time. He hid his small, razor-like teeth behind his curled gray lips. 

“Why should I?” Michael asked.

“Because it’s something you want. No— something you need.” 

Michael paused for a moment. He remembered Geoff talking about trolls that frequented the woods in this area, and the tricks they liked to play on travelers. He steeled himself and swung his sword once again. 

That time, it connected with flesh. The blade sunk into the divet between his neck and shoulder and he bellowed, jumping up several feet in the air and surging at Michael. The pleasantness left his face and he was enraged, his skin turning red as he screamed and blood gushed from his wound. Michael pushed him away through the air and he landed, quite acrobatically, on his feet and ran forward again. Michael was surprised at the lack of resistance as he ran his sword through the creature’s middle.

He made a surprised, gurgling noise and fell limp, Michael slid the sword out of his belly and drew back, feeling ill. The creature laid there, bleeding sluggishly, unmoving on the dark ground. His beady eyes were open and stared at Michael, something lasting and unnerving in the black irises.

Michael ran away, hoping there weren’t more of them, waiting to attack. He was on edge as he slowed to a walk, his blood-covered sword still held aloft. Nothing more happened, except for the normal rustling and noises of the forest that he had grown used to. 

Eventually, in the distance, he saw a dark shape sticking up from the ground. The absolute lack of light made it hard to distinguish, but as he neared he noticed it was a humble wooden shack. On the side of the building, facing him, was a large symbol painted in white. It was a straight line with a few crescent strokes around it, his heart rate picked up. This is where he was meant to go. 

He circled the shack, there was a small woodpile and a fire pit to the side, and the door was painted a deep burgundy. A small window, the only one on the house, was to the left. He felt crazy and like he was doing something deeply wrong. 

_I need to know more._

He took a deep breath and let his knuckles hit the door, softly in case he disturbed anything in the forest. There was a beat, and through the window Michael saw a flickering light come into existence. The door opened freely and standing on the threshold was a woman. She looked vaguely familiar, but Michael couldn’t place it. She wore a simple blue dress with a white shawl, and a blue ribbon was tied into her blonde hair. Grasped in her hand was a bare candle, slowly dripping hot wax onto her fingers.

“Are you Michael?” She whispered, looking furtively around as if he had brought someone along with him.

“Um, yes?” He felt awkward, he barely knew what to say. _Hey, I was told by some ghost to come find you_? It hardly felt reasonable.

She reached out and took his wrist, pulling him gently inside. He followed easily, her hand was soft and cold when it touched his skin. She pushed the door closed behind him and looked out the window, searching for a sign of life. Michael surveyed his cramped surroundings. There was a small bed in the corner and directly next to it was a chest with a bucket of water on top, and nothing else. It was incredibly bare, the floor was dirt and the wooden walls were thin.

“So.” She said, and squinted her eyes at him. “You’re a human?” 

Michael nodded dumbly. “Are you?”

“No, I’m a dryad. I’m a guardian of these trees and the animals that live here.” 

Michael had never heard of such a creature, but that didn’t seem like anything he should be afraid of. Her smooth face was pleasant enough, and she hadn’t done anything to make him fear her.

She looked down at her hand, which was slowly building up with more dried wax. “Oh.” She said softly, and set the candle down on top of the chest, leaning it against the bucket. “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t usually come into contact with your kind.” She laughed nervously.

“What’s your name?” Michael asked.

“Barbara.” She paused. “My friend, he told me that you would come. I didn’t believe him.”

“How was he able to talk to me like that? It’s all so… confusing. I don’t really know what to do.” He admitted. 

She sighed. “He’s a dear friend of mine. He’s a good man, he used to guide lost souls through the forest. I just— I don’t want him to die. He’s growing weaker without his body. He is able to communicate through dreams, he must have come across you in the forest while you were unconscious.”

“He told me that Geoff did this to him, and that I should watch out for him.”

Barbara’s eyes grew wide. “Geoff? Ramsey? You know him?”

“Yeah, he… well, I guess I live with them.”

Barbara took a step towards him and laid her hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes intensely. “You have to get out of there. You have to help us, Geoff is a monster.”

Michael shook her hand off him and felt something drop in his stomach. “How do you know that, though? I read something… I… I don’t know. He’s helped me so far, I just don’t know what to believe.” 

Barbara sighed and crossed her arms. “Many people are afraid of him, he used to run around with demons during the war. He did this to my friend, he tore him from his body and left him to die. He tricks people, and when he’s finished with them he destroys their lives. That’s all I know.” She said seriously.

Michael didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. His suspicions were confirmed. Barbara looked at him with those piercing, knowing blue eyes and he saw pity in them.

“Look, you seem like a nice guy. I’m sorry this is happening, but my friend needs help badly. There aren’t many in this forest that would help a stranger, you are very kind.” She turned and crouched in front of her chest. She moved the candle and the bucket off the top and opened it. There was rattling and scraping as she dug through it, she produced a piece of paper and a quill pen. She scribbled something on it and stood up to hand it to him.

“If you would, please, try to get this potion? It’s a strength elixir made from elderberry and divine sage, it will give him the strength to return to his body.” She stopped and her lips became a tight line. “And don’t tell those faeries what you’re doing, they’re brainwashed by Geoff and will try to stop you. Just come back here and we can bring it to him.”

Michael ran his thumb over the paper, small and crinkled, and read the loopy, neat handwriting on it. He stuffed it in his pocket, a hollow feeling settling in his chest. “Okay.” He said, resigned. 

She smiled, small and sympathetic. She took his hand and held it between hers and squeezed. Her fingernails were long and straight. “You’re doing the right thing, thank you so much. I don’t know what to do to repay you.”

He retracted his hand awkwardly. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll be seeing you.” At that, he nodded at her and moved towards the door.

As he opened it, she spoke to him.

“Be careful.”

He said nothing, just slipped out the front door and closed it behind him with a soft _click_. 

When he was out of the house, he started walking back in the direction he came from and felt a mixture of ugly feelings boiling in his gut. Geoff had been nothing but nice to him, had helped him, but also kept secrets from him. He was in danger, like Barbara and her friend said. He had a demonic presence in him, and hurt people, obviously.

“What the fuck.” He said to himself, frustrated. Everything he had gotten so used to, the familiarity of this newfound group and home, was shattered. He wondered absently whether or not the others knew, if Geoff had lied and told them another story. Barbara said they were brainwashed, just the thought made him sick.

He reached the house without trouble, and the sight of it brought him back to that first time he was led there, feeling wary and afraid and so tired. 

He slipped inside quietly, everyone was still asleep. He crept up the stairs and into his room, and dumped his cloak on the ground. He undressed, finally, and sat down on his bed. Uneasiness kept him from being able to fall peacefully to sleep, he laid in bed with his eyes open, staring through the small space between the heavy curtains in front of the window until he saw the sky begin to lighten. The colors were pale and the lilac and pink hues distracted him, he imagined there was someone high above the trees and clouds painting the sky with a wide, broad brush.

Sleep took him eventually, but only for a short while. The night had been eventful and his brain needed the rest, no dreams disturbed him for once. 

He awoke to footsteps walking by his door, he heard the dull thud of boots on the wood and figured it was Ryan exiting his lab. The sound of Jeremy and Gavin chatting downstairs roused him, he longed for company but guilt ate at him immediately upon waking, he felt separate from them, suddenly. He was betraying them by going against Geoff, for questioning his character and who he actually was, despite all that they had done for him.

He stood and stretched, then got dressed. He felt heavy and his eyes were sore, another night of little sleep. He looked in the mirror and beneath his bloodshot eyes were dark circles, he looked like shit. His curly hair stuck up at odd angles no matter how he tried to flatten it, he scowled at his reflection. He had never really looked in a mirror or at any reflective surface and recognized what he saw as _him_ , his body was something unknown and mostly ignored. It was more of an inconvenience, something he had to care for despite his exhaustion or desire to just be anything else. He turned away, feeling sick as he exited his room.

As he walked down the stairs, he noticed the distinct lack of noise, even though he had just heard jovial laughter and conversation minutes before. He slowly peeked around the corner to the kitchen and almost jumped from surprise when he noticed Geoff’s hunched form, back turned to Michael as he made himself a cup of tea. His hair was mussed but he was dressed and moving smoothly and normally, unlike his state the last time he was seen out of his room. 

Jeremy and Gavin sat at the table, their faces blanched and surprised as they watched Geoff prepare his drink. They turned to look at Michael when he appeared and they raised their eyebrows, cocking their heads at the other faerie. Gavin had a nervous smile on his face.

Geoff must have heard Michael’s sharp intake of breath, he turned to look at him, a comically surprised look on his face. When his eyes landed on Michael a grin broke across his face.

“Michael! You’re awake!” He sounded alert and… normal. It had been so long since he had exuded so much energy, the bags under his eyes were lighter than Michael thought he had ever seen them. He wore a long-sleeve tunic and beneath it Michael noticed the edges of bandages on his arms.

“Um. Yeah.” Michael said warily, feeling caught as if Geoff could tell what he was thinking. He edged around the room until he stood in the far corner and leant against the wall. He wished he was happy to see him, even yesterday he would have felt relief and excitement wash over him. Now, all he could see was something dark flickering behind Geoff’s deceptively bright eyes, he was deeply unsettled. 

Michael looked around. “Have you seen Ryan?”

“He’s in his lab.” Jeremy said, and gave Michael a strange look as if to ask _Are you okay?_

Michael nodded and ignored Jeremy’s concern, he turned and went right back up the stairs. He heard the three of them begin talking, Gavin sounded so relieved and spoke with an upbeat, excited cadence.

As Michael scaled the stairs once again, that guilt reared its ugly head once again. He had to force himself to knock on the door to Ryan’s lab, his stomach was twisted in knots. He just had to ask for the potion and hope he didn’t explode from anxiety in the process.

The door opened and there stood Ryan, he smiled when he saw him and beckoned him in. He seemed to be in a good mood, he started talking as soon as Michael stepped inside. He was pacing and flipping through a completely busted and marked-up journal, its pages were covered in ink; essays, drawings, diagrams, equations, and bullet points.

“You wouldn’t believe the luck I’m having. I discovered a new combination of symbols to— well, the symbols, they’re more related to alchemy but as long as the incantation is recognizable to this deity I think I could still use the figures. It’s— ah.” He stopped when he noticed Michael’s wide eyes and lost expression. “Rambling. Right.” 

Michael smiled nervously. “It’s fine. Actually, I need a favor.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows and set down his notebook. “Yeah, what is it?”

Michael shuffled his feet. “I was just thinking, you guys have a lot of potions made, just in case things happen. I was reading a couple of the books downstairs and I read about a strength potion with elderberry and divine sage. Maybe, I don’t know. Just thought it would be a good one to have.” The lie tumbled from his mouth and he had to remind himself that he was saving someone. He was doing the right thing.

Ryan, to his surprise, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, absolutely! That’s a powerful potion, definitely a good one to have handy.” He turned to his potions set-up and began shuffling things around, then turned to look at Michael again. “Would you go get something for me? Outside on the porch, there’s a plant with a red stem and little black berries. Just grab a handful.”

“Sure.” Michael scurried away, out of the lab and down the stairs. He was thankful the kitchen and sitting room were vacated, he did not want to face the others right now. 

Outside, it was bright and the warmth of the sun cut through the chill in the air. As Michael located the plant Ryan mentioned and began harvesting the berries, he heard laughter and the sound of metal clashing behind the house. He peeked around the siding and saw Gavin and Jeremy sparring, Geoff stood a few feet away, watching with a small smile on his face.

Michael withdrew, he looked down at his hands, cupped and filled with the elderberries, his fingers stained red with black specs adorning his fingertips. He shoved his guilt away and returned inside, back to Ryan’s lab.

“Good, thank you. I’ll get right to it.” Ryan said when Michael approached him again, and dumped the berries into a beaker Ryan provided. “It should be done in a couple of hours, divine sage takes a while to bloom in these kinds of potions.” He explained, an excited smile on his face.

“Thanks, Ryan.” Michael said quietly. He left soon after, finding no reason to keep bothering the faerie. 

He returned to his room and sat at his desk, feeling listless and troubled.

He knew he should be more concerned about the growing demonic plague, or Jon returning, or any number of fucked up things happening. However, selfishly, he could only concentrate on his own feeling of betrayal, and how stupid he was to trust Geoff. He felt fooled and like he didn’t know what was the truth, he still had no actual evidence of the betrayal other than what he had heard from others and his own paranoia.

He sat there for some time, just staring at the blank, scratched wall, feeling sorry for himself and debating his options. It occurred to him that he could approach Geoff and ask him directly, to see what he would say. He opted to not do that, he was far too nervous and felt as if Geoff would retaliate, even kill him. It was a stinging realization, that Geoff might hurt him. It was mostly unfounded, Geoff had never raised a hand to him or threatened him in any way; but the stories he heard, the things he has read, the things he was shown— they reinforced that fear. 

He pressed his face to the cool, smooth surface of his desk and groaned. He heard the door swing open and slam closed downstairs, followed by chatter.

Gavin’s voice faintly reached him. “You really did me in, Jeremy.” He whined.

Jeremy laughed. “Your reaction time was slow, you’ve been slacking, huh?”

“Whatever, you pleb. Where’s Michael?”

“Wasn’t he looking for Ryan? He seemed off when he came downstairs earlier.”

Michael sighed, he squeezed his eyes shut.

It was silent for a moment, footsteps climbed up the stairs and approached his door, there was a soft knocking.

“What.” Michael grumbled, and his door creaked open, then shut again. He didn’t open his eyes, he knew it was Gavin.

“You alright?” Gavin asked, and the springs of the bed groaned as he sat down on it.

Michael sat up, finally, and the dark room spun when he opened his eyes. He hadn’t eaten in a long time but he couldn’t bring himself to care, he felt nauseous and the thought of food made his stomach turn.

“Yeah.”

“Still didn’t sleep last night?” Gavin asked, he sounded disappointed. 

Michael rubbed his face. “I slept fine.” He snapped.

Gavin looked at him, his eyes soft. He patted the bed beside him. Michael glared, not feeling in control of what was coming out of his mouth. The words slipped out quickly before he could stop them.

“What do you want? Why are you trying to mother me?” He spat, and felt bad when Gavin blinked, hurt showing on his face.

“I just… you seem upset.”

Michael scoffed and turned away, he laid his hands out flat on the desk, trying to convince it to give him strength. He felt annoyed and restless, he couldn’t help but to be nasty, even if it was unnecessary.

“Fuck, Gavin. I’m not a child.” 

“I know you’re not, but something is obviously wrong.” He paused, then added, quietly. “You can talk to me.”

“There’s nothing wrong, I’m fine. Just… whatever. Just get out.” Michael couldn’t look at him, he just stared at the wall again.

Gavin didn’t surrender, he got up and Michael felt his presence behind him.

“Michael.”

Michael sighed heavily, he felt a shiver run up his spine when a hand laid itself lightly on his shoulder.

“I’m okay.” He said, but his voice wavered and it sounded insincere in his own ears. He couldn’t hide from Gavin even if he wanted to. It was like everything came out, the anger and fear and confusion finally made something burst in him and he had to force his tears back. He hated crying, he felt weak and stupid. Something about Gavin’s touch made his nerve endings crackle and his heart ached. He shrugged Gavin’s hand off and rubbed his face violently, pressing on his eyes to stem the flow.

“What is it?” Gavin asked softly, he crouched down so he was looking up at Michael. There was no light in the room other than what little could come through the drapes, where they didn’t quite touch the wall. The thin band of yellow light lit up the side of Gavin’s face, and when Michael looked at him he could only see the golden specs dancing in his iris.

Michael tore his gaze away and looked at the ground, where Gavin’s shoe touched the side of the chair. He couldn’t make himself speak, he chewed on his lip, his mind racing a mile a minute. If he told Gavin that he was secretly meeting with some stranger in the woods, going against Geoff— he would hate him. He would go back to how they were when Michael first arrived, distrustful and angry with the world. He didn’t want to uproot his life with Geoff, if he didn’t know the truth.

Michael jerked away when Gavin’s hand reached toward him. Gavin paused, then continued when Michael stilled. His thumb grazed his cheek and he wiped a stray tear that leaked from Michael’s eye. It was a light, tender touch that only made more tears appear. 

Michael folded in on himself. It was all he could do, he couldn’t handle Gavin’s intense, sympathetic expression and he tried to stifle his sobs as he cried into his hands. It had been so long since the floodgates had opened, he couldn’t remember the last time he cried. It all came out now, all the pain he had been holding in exposed. He was embarrassed and wished he could stop, but even when his breathing calmed and the hiccups ceased, those traitorous tears still slipped down his ruddy cheeks. 

“Sorry, I—” Michael cut himself off, his voice cracked and he wanted nothing more than to stop existing at that moment, so he couldn’t see the sad look in Gavin’s eyes. 

“It’s okay.” Gavin said, still crouched on the ground. He reached out again, this time lightly grazing Michael’s wet cheek. He couldn’t move, shame gripped him and held him down. Gavin wiped away another tear and touched the hair above his ear, just barely running his fingers through it. Michael shivered involuntarily.

“God.” Michael laughed humorlessly and wiped at his eyes again, blinking until they cleared. “This is so stupid.” He said, mostly to himself.

“You’re not stupid.” Gavin said, but Michael just shook his head. He felt like a petulant child and tried to regain composure as quickly as possible despite the lump still living in his throat.

“I am, I’m sitting here crying— shit. Crying over nothing.” He scrubbed his face and let his arms drop onto his lap.

“Is it nothing?” Gavin asked, he peered up into Michael’s face and he looked away, he couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m just tired.” He said, and it was true. He was tired of all of this, he thought he had everything figured out and he was on the right track, but he was thrown back into the terrified helplessness that he escaped after living there for a while, getting to know the faeries that had done nothing but help him. But this time, he wasn’t truly helpless. He could save someone, someone who had been wronged by Geoff. 

He figured he could learn more, talk to Barbara or her friend who was without his body to see what happened, what kind of evil was resting inside Geoff.

Gavin stood up and rested his hand on the back of the chair Michael sat in. He opened his mouth, but it snapped shut again. He looked like a fish out of water, opening his mouth to say something but changing his mind. He looked conflicted, but eventually just smiled weakly. 

“You should rest. Properly.” He said, and put a finger on Michael’s chin, lifting his head up to face him. Reluctantly, Michael allowed it. He looked at his hair, his nose, his lips; anything but his eyes. 

“Yeah.” Was all Michael could let out, Gavin let his hand drop. He nodded once, and took a step back.

“I’ll leave you alone. But I’m here, you know. If you need anything.” He said awkwardly, he grazed his fingers on his own neck, up and down. 

“Sure, okay. Yeah. I—” Michael stopped. He wanted to do something, to get up and hold Gavin, to allow himself comfort; but there was a blockade in his heart, in his brain that stopped him. He sat there uselessly, his head pounding and emotions running high. He sighed and clasped his hands together.

Gavin turned and made for the door. Before he turned the knob, Michael spoke up.

“Thank you, Gavin.” He said it quietly. Gavin turned and smiled at him.

“Of course. Go to sleep.” He tapped the doorframe and left, leaving Michael alone in the dark.

  
  


It was a while before Michael let himself rest, he laid in his bed for a while before darkness overtook him. When he woke up, his mind felt clearer and he was relieved. He was still conflicted, and felt disturbed, but his more unstable feelings of anger and fear were stifled by a rested brain. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and saw, through the curtains, that the sun was close to setting. 

He got up and knew he had to face the others now. He took a deep breath and left his room, feeling disoriented and dizzy. 

He heard voices, and grew nervous when he noticed everyone was there, gathered in the kitchen. Geoff, Jack, Ryan, Jeremy, and Gavin. All of them, talking and laughing. He took another deep breath and descended the stairs.

Everyone sat at the table, extra chairs were pulled from the sitting room and the table was cluttered with plates, glasses, and food. Candles were lit around the room and it was comfortably warm, the stove was lit and the quiet crackling of flames was a peaceful ambient noise as it heated up a large black kettle. There was an empty chair between Gavin and Jeremy, Michael felt his face warm when their eyes rested on him.

“Michael!” Jeremy cheered, his face was lit up and the joy was almost tangible, everyone in the room was in high spirits.

“There you are!” Jack said, and gestured to the empty seat. “Come here, you almost missed dinner.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Michael said, and took the seat offered. He still felt awkward, like he was separate from them even as they looked at him with relief and acceptance.

Geoff, across the table, was eating slowly and smiled at Michael when their eyes met. Michael offered one in return, but looked away quickly, feeling artless and stiff.

A plate with a pale kind of stew was placed before him, everyone was eating and drinking around him. 

“It’s potato and turnip stew, Ryan graciously shared some of his spices.” Jack explained with a teasing glare shot in Ryan’s direction. He dropped a sprinkling of some ground-up green herb on top. “There’s wine as well, Geoff had it stored away.”

Michael looked at the food and his stomach turned, but he knew he had to eat something. His body felt weak and shaky, it really had been a while. 

“You had a good nap?” Jeremy teased.

Michael rolled his eyes, the natural back-and-forth easing his anxiety. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been, uh— I’ve not been sleeping well. I feel better now.” He said haltingly. Gavin was staring at him, his face purposefully blank but pleasant.  
“Well, we’re all here now. This is good.” Jack said, not-so-discreetly eyeing Geoff.

“The gang’s all here.” Gavin said and shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth unattractively. Michael stifled his laugh, but only barely. Gavin smiled at him, his cheeks stuffed.

“How are things in Hollyhead?” Geoff asked conversationally, and Jack sighed, stabbing at his plate. 

“Not great. The ghouls are migrating down the mountain, a couple fell from the ledge and have been tormenting the humans. I caught some of them last night, but a few children were killed.” He paused, then reluctantly said, “Some demons were spotted, there’s now a mandatory curfew and no one is allowed out by themselves.”

“Damn.” Ryan sighed and leaned back in his seat. 

“They’re not even… I don’t know. They’re definitely powerful, now more than ever. They barely look humanoid anymore, they are huge and dark and have these spiky shadows.” Jack explained and shuddered. “The royal guard has their work cut out for them.”

“I don’t suppose the humans notice your coming and going?” Ryan asked.

“No, I’m there often enough and I make sure not to disturb anyone when I leave. It’s luck, I’m just hoping it doesn’t wear out. Those ghouls would tear them apart, they’re hardly prepared for an attack of that magnitude, between the ghouls and demons.”

It was silent for a moment as everyone continued eating, but it was heavy as the realization that life was beginning to change, especially for the unequipped humans. Michael, on one hand, was glad he wasn’t in Cirrane; but he couldn’t help but to feel sad for the people of the village, who had barely any guard and were mostly unprotected. Cirrane was completely surrounded by thick woods that Michael now knew were crawling with many creatures that could do them harm, as well as demons out on the prowl.

Michael heard a deep exhale and looked up to see Geoff, eyes closed, his spoon shaking in his hand. He set it down and his hands disappeared under the table, no one seemed to notice. 

“Gavin, did you lock the shed?” Jeremy asked casually, then he took a sip from his glass.

Gavin made an exasperated noise and his chair scraped back behind him. “Dammit.” He said sadly, and promptly left the table. He slipped out the door and Jack chuckled.

“He always forgets.”

Geoff’s eyes opened again and a weary expression flitted across his features, then disappeared as he took a long drink. His glass held water, unlike the rest of them, who drank a fragrant red wine.

Michael finished most of the food on his plate and his wine, but couldn’t force himself to eat any more. It was good, but his mouth soured and he couldn’t help but to feel strange as he looked at Geoff. He tried to be normal, he tried not to let his thoughts wander, but he couldn’t help it.

Jeremy sat back, his plate cleared. “Thanks for cooking, Jack. That was delicious.”

“Thank you. I’m just glad our garden is resilient, that enchantment really does well protecting it from the chill.” Jack replied, and more chatter followed that Michael couldn’t pay attention to.

Ryan stood up and began collecting the empty plates, Michael rushed to help him so as to not have to sit and stew on his feelings any longer.

They cleaned the dishes and returned them to their places, Gavin came back at some point and was whining about something or the other to Jack. Ryan, after they cleaned up, disappeared; most likely to his lab, and Jeremy followed soon after. 

Geoff sat in his seat, still, observing his surroundings. He didn’t look particularly zoned out, as he had in the past, he just looked around as if he had never taken a good look at the room. His eyes, icy blue and piercing, landed on Michael as he stood near the stove. 

Michael felt his blood freeze in his veins and he wanted to leave, to go back to his room and not have to talk to anyone. However, Geoff called out to him.

“Hey, Michael.”

“Um. Yeah, what’s up?” Michael couldn’t help the small quiver in his voice, but Geoff, if he noticed, didn’t care. He stood from his seat and beckoned him towards the sunroom. 

“Come here for a moment, I need to talk to you.” 

Michael’s heart pounded painfully in his chest and those panicked, overly-suspicious thoughts that kept him awake the night before came back with brutal force. _He knows, he’s going to kill me, he’s going to ruin my life like Barbara said—_

He made his legs move despite his brain screaming at him to turn around and never look back, he followed Geoff into the dark room. 

When they had both crossed the threshold, Geoff closed the door behind them and struck a match that he pulled from somewhere unknown, he lit a candle at the low table in the center of the sitting area and sat down heavily.

Michael hovered behind the wicker chair opposite, uncomfortable and terrified. He fiddled with the loose weave of the blanket draped across the back of the chair and twisted a loose piece of fabric around his finger tightly, nervously.

Geoff looked at him and arched an eyebrow. “What’s up with you? You can sit.” He gestured to the chair and Michael shook himself, his fight or flight instinct was kicking in despite the calm atmosphere. Geoff sat, relaxed, his ankle resting on his knee. 

Michael slowly sat down, his leg jumped up and down and he clasped his hands tightly in his lap, movements that Geoff noticed. He felt like prey, like at any moment Geoff would jump over the table and tear his neck out like he did that man in his dream.

“So.” Geoff began, and sighed. He scratched his beard, overgrown, and rubbed his hands down his face as if he was gathering courage. Michael sat silently and tried not to let his overactive imagination take over. 

“I have to tell you something, and I need you to listen.” Geoff said. Michael’s curiosity piqued and his leg stilled, he cocked his head to the side. Geoff continued, his voice low. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. Well, I have— but I’ve neglected to tell you something important about me, something you should know.” 

“What is it?” Michael asked, impatient and nervous beyond anything he had ever experienced.

Geoff smiled, small and without joy. His lips were tight and he uncrossed his legs, seeming uncomfortable himself. 

“Well, I doubt the others have told you. They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t want to scare you off. Or upset me, or whatever. But, a long time ago, I fought in the war. I wanted to help, I wanted to protect the humans and really see what was going on out there. I heard about demons trying to take over human settlements, and when a general came to the area looking for men, I joined the resistance. The _Salvatores_.” He chuckled darkly, then. He looked at the ground, scuffing it lightly with his shoe. “I had never even seen a demon before, I had no idea what I was getting into. It was… hard. Being away from home, having to kill and risk my life for humans that spat on us, who feared us as if we were demons ourselves. But I did it because I wanted to do anything I could to help. And I did. I helped.” 

Geoff stopped then, and for a moment a solemn silence blanketed them. He still stared at the ground, but when he raised his head, his eyes were hard and intense.

“Now, you need to understand, what happened to me was impossible. Unheard of. I still don’t understand it, and since then I have never heard of it happening again in all of my searching. Demons do not have the same power over fae as they do humans, we cannot be possessed. They can curse us, and kill us, but they cannot take over our bodies.”

He spoke quickly, almost tripping over his words in his haste to explain. Michael knew what he was going to say, but sat still and listened anyway. A numb shock overtook him.

“On the battlefield, a demon caught me. Usually they would just run us through with whatever weapon they had, but this guy really caught hold of me. I don’t remember what happened, but I woke up in the barracks after the battle and something was in my head. My body moved on its own, words came out of my mouth that weren’t mine, and there was a voice in my brain telling me to kill the soldiers in my platoon, to run rampant and destroy everything. At first, I could control it a little, I could walk and talk on my own, but eventually he took full control over me. I was trapped in my head and just watched as my body went on without me, this demon used me and tortured me and made me do things that I would never, ever do. I tried so hard to stop it, but nothing worked. He taunted me and forced me down every time I was able to resist, it was Hell.”

He hesitated for a moment, gauging Michael’s reaction. Michael didn’t know what to do or how to respond. His fear died down and he mostly felt sad, and vaguely relieved. Geoff was explaining to him what he already knew, but so far he was saying what Michael believed to be the truth. He just nodded slowly, and that was reaction enough for Geoff to continue his story.

“He brought me to the Crow’s base, which was in Stawford at the time. Jon was impressed by his brutality and the fact that he was able to possess a faerie. This demon… he didn’t have a name. Not one that I know of, anyway. He stole mine, he called himself Ramsey. He was powerful, and evil, and I will never be able to forget the things that he made me do. My name was ruined, my body, my hands. After a while I gave up, I retreated into my brain and tried not to think about what was happening. I knew I could never go home and I would never be able to escape. It went on like that for years, Jon took us under his wing and this demon revelled in it, he led armies and grew powerful in the ranks of the Crow. I had to watch it all, there was nothing I could do.”

Geoff took a deep breath, he picked at his fingers incessantly.

“After a while, the Crow’s grip on humanity and the fae started to slip. They were losing battles, losing territory, and Jon was furious. He sent us to Gramsby, which was fae territory, to try to overthrow the chain of command there. If we succeeded, that would have been a turning point in the war in the demon's favor. I hadn’t made any effort to stop the demon controlling me in years, he figured I was dormant. That’s what happens when demons possess humans, they lie dormant in the body, and he thought that it just took some adjusting with faeries. When Jon told us to go to Gramsby, I knew I had to do something. I had to stop it. Now, the only way to truly kill a demon is with a silver blade. It wouldn’t be hard to find one, because it was standard to use silver or silver-plated blades in battle; but I wasn’t sure if I would be able to get control for long enough to do it. I bided my time until we were crossing a disused battleground on the outskirts of Gramsby. There had been a battle there years before, and among the skeletons and leftovers from war were weapons, just scattered on the ground. I knew I would die along with this demon, but I had to get out. I couldn’t take it anymore, I just wanted it to end.

“I was able to overthrow him for just long enough to pick up this silver dagger and drive it in, I cut myself open and everything stopped. I thought I was dead, but I was relieved. It was finally over, there were no voices, I could finally rest. An enchantress, she called herself Griffon, found me alone out there and took me away. She patched me up as best as she could, with magic and whatnot. I woke up again in a house in the middle of the woods, far away from Gramsby. I have no idea how I survived, I don’t think I would have if she hadn’t found me. People don’t _survive_ demonic possession, it just doesn’t happen.”

Geoff’s voice quieted, he squeezed his eyes shut and stiffened, then sighed. Again, he looked at Michael with something akin to fear; fear of rejection, of an angry or betrayed response, of having to tell this story after so long of not mentioning it, of ignoring it. Michael was genuinely shocked that time, he hadn’t heard the last part. If the demon was no longer in his body, then what about his illness?

“So it’s gone, then? The demon.” Michael asked slowly, unsure. 

Geoff slouched further in his seat. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. When I woke up at Griffon’s house, I thought he was still in my head. He still spoke to me, cursing me and berating me— just quieter. It scared the shit out of me, I wouldn’t let her near me in case he took control over me again and did something horrible. He kept me awake at night, made my fingers twitch, kept me from speaking when I wanted to— but he can’t get full control. His power is gone, but his consciousness is still with me.”

Michael sat for a moment, silently, and all he could muster as a reply was a soft, “Oh.”

Geoff leant forward in his seat, his hands flat on the table before them. “There are times where I can ignore him, I can function and he pretty much leaves me alone, but sometimes, as you’ve seen by now, it gets hard to manage. I can promise you that you’re not in danger, none of you are. He does not have the ability to control my body anymore, I am still me.” He said it urgently, almost pleading.

Michael let it all sink in for a moment. His hesitance was melting away, as was his suspicion that had been haunting him since he met that stranger in the woods. Maybe they had it wrong, maybe this was a misunderstanding. Perhaps Geoff hurt this man back when he wasn’t himself, when that demon had control over his body and voice. Still, he couldn’t get what Barbara said out of his head; that Geoff had brainwashed the others, and maybe he was being persuaded, himself. 

That paranoid line of thinking didn’t lead anywhere meaningful, and he decided that he could figure it out later. Right now, Geoff was looking at him expectantly.

“Jesus, Geoff.” He said, and rubbed his chin.

“I know, it’s a lot. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I thought I had it under control until Adam showed up here after the fight. Like I said, it comes in waves. Sometimes I’m good, sometimes I’m not.” He said the last part bitterly.

“Could it kill you?” Michael asked, he was brought back to Geoff throwing up blood into the vase and shivered. There was no way that was just a mild side effect of possession.

“I don’t know. Honestly, this was the worst it has ever gotten, I can’t explain it. There’s no one else to go off of, I’m the only one who this has happened to, as far as I or anyone else knows.” He chuckled, then, and said, “First fae to be possessed, and first creature to survive a possession. What a track record.”

Michael chuckled as well, Geoff was good at taking the edge off serious situations with his sarcastic, joking personality. It has been missing for a while, that sense of humor that was so embodied by his sometimes poorly-timed jokes. This Geoff reminded Michael why he settled in so easily here, why he was able to fit in with the rest of them in this house, even though he was human. Geoff made everyone feel like they could trust him, and in that moment Michael forgot about the people he met who warned him against putting his faith in the faerie.

“You’re not… mad? Confused? Got any questions?” Geoff asked quickly, seeming flustered by Michael’s apparent calm, his willingness to accept that he had a demonic voice in his head, one that made him physically ill and borderline insane. 

“Um. No?” Michael said and shrugged. He wouldn’t tell Geoff that he already knew some of it, he decided that might cause more problems and strife than he was ready or willing to deal with. “I think you covered it.”

Geoff just stared at him, then laughed. That loud, strange cackle that went up an impossible few octaves, he squeezed his eyes shut and held his stomach as he slowed to a childish giggle. “Michael Jones, you never fail to surprise me.”

“Why? What did I do? Would you rather I get mad and throw things? Or get so scared that I just up and leave?” Michael teased, although those two things may have happened at some point, if he didn’t know what he knew then. 

Geoff calmed down and wiped his tear-filled eyes, then smiled at Michael with a proud look that made him shrink. “I was afraid that you would be frightened, or angry. I could have dealt with that, or understood it. I just wasn’t expecting you to be so calm.”

“I mean, I had some suspicions. I figured you had some illness, I felt too bad to ask because everyone was so worried.” Michael said. That part was true. Before he knew about Geoff’s past, or what he learned from _Letters from the Crow_ , every time he thought he would ask one of the others what exactly was wrong with Geoff, he always faltered. He thought he was better off not knowing, or he felt too guilty bringing it up.

Geoff frowned, then, and sighed. “Sorry you had to deal with that. I should have told you a long time ago, but I don’t suppose it would have made it any better.” 

Michael shook his head. “No, I think this was the perfect time. Thank you for telling me.” 

The candle on the table in front of them was burning low, the wax spilled over the side of the shallow holder it sat in and dried on the stained wood. It was dark other than that flickering light, the sun had gone down far before they even started talking. 

Geoff looked at the small window between the sunroom and the kitchen, the fabric covering it on the other side displaying its lit pattern of small, embroidered leaves. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment as if he was lost in thought, then he quickly snapped out of it.

He smiled at Michael. “No, thank _you_. You took it exceptionally well, I can rest easy now knowing that you won't figure it out on your own and do something stupid or irrational.” He said it jokingly, but the sentence made something cold and hard form in his stomach and he wondered absently if Geoff actually knew what he did, if he was toying with him.

That thought was brushed away by Geoff standing and Michael quickly copying his action. Geoff came towards him, and he was hardly prepared for the tight hug that followed. It only lasted a moment and Michael barely had time to reciprocate before Geoff let him go with a flourish and wordlessly returned to the kitchen, allowing the warm light to spill back into the sunroom.

“I forgot you guys were in there.” Jack’s voice said, followed by a yawn.

Michael slowly followed, and he could have melted when he saw Gavin’s expectant face, seemingly waiting for him to appear.

“Hey, Michael.” He said sweetly and patted the seat next to him. Michael happily accepted the offer and sat down, Gavin promptly swung his legs over Michael’s and slid back in his chair.

“What do you think you’re doing.” Michael said, deadpan, trying to hide his smirk. 

Jack rolled his eyes, stood up, and stretched. “I better go before you two drag me into whatever it is that’s going on here.” He motioned at their already intertwined limbs and took a step in Geoff’s direction.

“You tired?” Geoff asked, his voice low. Michael watched from the corner of his eye as Jack approached him, a shy smile on his kind face. Geoff held his arms out and Jack floated into them, they embraced for a moment, then Geoff tugged him towards the stairs. “Come on.” He said, pulling Jack a little more towards him.

“Don’t be too loud down here, you two.” Jack warned, pointing at Michael and Gavin who each blinked innocently.

“Loud? Us?” Gavin said dramatically, and his mouth formed a perfect O. Jack, again, rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, asshole. Goodnight.” He said, and Geoff waved at them distractedly as he led the other faerie up the creaky wooden stairs. 

When their footsteps disappeared, Gavin turned to him. They were awfully close, their chairs were pressed side-by-side and Gavin was basically in his lap at that point. At one point Michael would have been embarrassed, or tried to get him off, but something told him to stay put. 

“Are you feeling better?” Gavin asked tentatively, as if just mentioning Michael’s earlier outburst would set him off again. 

Michael just smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

Gavin grinned back at him. “Good. I don’t like seeing my boi in such a state.”

Michael lightly punched his shoulder, he couldn’t think of anything else to do or say. Gavin seemed to understand, he leaned towards the table to pick up his steaming mug, the teabag inside bobbing on the surface. They sat in a comfortable silence as Gavin took a long sip. He looked up at Michael through his light eyelashes, his mouth on the rim of the mug. Just the sight made the breath in Michael’s lungs evacuate, again his heart fluttered and he had to keep himself steady, keep his thoughts in check in case Gavin decided now was the appropriate time to take a peek inside his head. 

Michael cringed at his own voice, how ragged and flustered it must have sounded, when he said, “What are you looking at?”

Gavin smiled softly into his tea, then lowered the mug until he cradled it in his hands. His face lost that teasing expression, that goofy smile disappeared and was replaced by something light, his mouth just barely turned up at the corner. Michael met his eyes and he felt his cheeks warm and his stomach dropped. It seemed unavoidable that time, something about the moment forced Michael to pause, there was no voice in his head telling him to stop, to calm down and get a hold of himself. There was only Gavin in front of him, the candlelight making his hair look like gold thread, his skin like dyed silk.

“What do you think I’m looking at?” Gavin’s smooth voice reached Michael’s ears but his head was on fire, his attention was pulled all over the place, he couldn’t think properly when all he could feel was Gavin draped across him. 

He was unable to reply, on account of his floundering speech and wrecked mind. Gavin had that effect on him, he could make everything and nothing make sense at the same time. He leaned forward again to set his mug down on the table, in the process he brushed Michael’s shoulder with his delicate fingers. It was a teasing gesture that was definitely not an accident, Michael couldn’t write that one off in his head. He stayed close and Michael could feel his warm breath on his cheek.

“Gavin…” Michael couldn’t finish, he let his words trail off as Gavin’s hand crept from his hand up his arm, gently brushing the fabric of his shirt until it rested at the base of Michael’s throat. His fingers were splayed and he watched them, very obviously avoiding eye contact. 

“Is this okay?” Gavin murmured, still inspecting the collar of Michael’s shirt.

Michael was finding it hard to keep his cool, his heart was hammering in his chest and he wanted to say _yes, yes please stay there, don’t move_. But again, cowardly, his voice failed him. All he could do was hum, his skin felt like it was on fire everywhere Gavin touched him. 

Finally, Gavin looked up at him, his face serious. Michael’s breath hitched in his throat. His eyes flickered down, he couldn’t help it; he stole a quick glance at Gavin’s lips, parted ever so slightly. Gavin smiled lightly when he looked back up to meet his eyes, his fingers moved from his chest to the back of his neck and Michael leaned forward—

The sound of a door opening and quick footsteps approaching forced them apart, Gavin jumped impossibly high in the air and returned to his seat, his face beet red. Michael was shaking with anticipation and his hands missed the body they were gripping just seconds before.

Ryan appeared at the bottom of the stairs, he held a small glass vial in his hand.

“Michael, the potion is done! Just keep it, who knows when it’ll be useful.” Ryan stepped forward to hand it to him and Michael took it with hands that vibrated.

“Thanks Ryan.” Michael said, his voice high and quick, he felt embarrassed and like he missed his chance, this damned potion.

Ryan nodded, looked between them with a shocked but understanding look, then ducked out of the room without another word. Michael could have sworn he saw a knowing smile on his face. He sat there, staring after him. The silence that ensued was deafening, Michael couldn’t make himself look over at Gavin no matter how much he wanted to.

“Um.” His voice came finally, Michael looked over and he was sitting with his legs and arms crossed, his cheeks were still a furious shade of red that was so endearing, but now only made something disappointed rise in Michael’s throat when he said, “I think… I think I need to go to sleep.” He stuttered and stood up on unsteady legs. He looked so flustered and unsure.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Goodnight.” Michael said awkwardly, he rubbed his hands together and watched as Gavin stared at him blankly for a moment, then marched up the stairs robotically. 

Michael kicked himself, he should have said something. Asked him to stay, told him how he felt— but he didn’t. He just sat there dumbly like he always did, he let him walk away.

He looked down at the vial in his hand and again, a dark, bitter guilt filled his body and he knew he had a decision to make. He turned it around, the liquid inside was thick and red, it looked like blood. There were small black specks in it that seemed to wink in the light. 

He stood up and blew out all the candles that were still lit, the last one by the stairs left him to scale the steps in complete darkness that enveloped him, he thought he saw the outline of a figure in front of him at the landing. He heard a voice, he knew it wasn’t real but it forced him to stand still anyway, his mind was playing tricks on him again.

_“He lied.”_

Cool air invaded Michael’s lungs and the vision was gone, he stood in an empty hallway, feeling sick to his stomach. He didn’t know who to believe, if any of this was even real. 

He returned to his room and dropped the vial into a drawer of his desk. He felt awake and bothered, he knew he wouldn’t get to sleep for some time, which gave him ample opportunity to think.

As if that ever did him any good.

  
  



	16. End.

So, I'm very sorry to anyone who enjoyed this story, and hoped I would finish it. I wish I could have finished it too. However, due to the circumstances as of October 2020, I will discontinue this fic as well as all others.   
The actions of several people portrayed in this story make me deeply uncomfortable and I do not want to keep writing about them.   
Hope you understand, I will keep this story up for ~memories~ but this is it. Thanks for the support.


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